With You
by AutumnScales
Summary: Rick and Carl are separated from their group after the Governor attacked the prison. They are left to fend for themselves in hopes of finding Judith and the others until they meet a woman searching for a reason to keep going. Michonne has lost a lot in her life, and when she meets Rick and Carl, she begins to feel like a part of something again. Rated M for stuff and thangs.
1. Chapter 1

Carl walked down the quiet street lined by abandoned houses on one side, and trees on the other. He imagined that it was probably a nice area to live in before the world went to shit, but the tragedy, devastation, and lack of upkeep was beginning to show on the homes. Some houses had busted windows, others had broken doors, and there were a few with both.

It was too silent for Carl's liking, but he figured he was just too used to hearing gunshots, the groaning of zombies, and general chaos. He was accustomed to the sound of people talking and coming up with strategies for the next run. The sound of people in their group trading and taking shifts. The sound of his baby sister happily babbling even though there was so much bad in the world. That thought pained Carl significantly. He had no idea if his little sister, Judith, was even still alive.

Carl shook his head angrily. He thought back to the moment where he and his father saw her little car seat covered in blood. Thinking about it made Carl's stomach flip, and he felt the need to cry, scream, and vomit at the same time.

Carl couldn't believe the events that took place just a couple of days ago. He knew that the Governor was a bad guy; he knew that eventually, they'd probably have to kill him. He didn't know that absolute hell would break loose and he'd lose people that he considered family. Hershel's death, for instance, was one that he figured he would never forget.

Carl decided that he just needed to stop thinking about it. For now, the focus needed to be on getting food, water and, if he got lucky, a first aid kit for his father, Rick. Carl walked a little further until he saw a house that seemed to be in relatively good condition. He slowly stepped onto the porch before reaching the door, and he paused for a moment to listen to his surroundings. All that could be heard was the wind in the air and the rustle of the leaves. He twisted the doorknob, and he was happy to see that it was locked. That meant that there was a better possibility of finding items that he needed in the house. Carl pulled out his knife and stuck the blade between the door and its frame, and after a couple of tedious minutes, he was able to get it open.

He pulled his gun out and opened the door cautiously. Stepping over the threshold, he noticed that the home was in decent shape. The furniture wasn't destroyed or toppled over, the smell of rotting food wasn't present, and it was pretty clean considering the state the world was in. Carl walked in, slowly and quietly closing the door behind him. He pulled out his knife again and cautiously checked each room on the bottom floor. He didn't find anything useful in the family room, the office, or the dining room. He did manage to find an almost full roll of tissue in the bathroom, but nothing that would heal and sterilize his father's wounds.

Carl made his way to the kitchen and hoped that something would be there. He looked around each corner of the kitchen before deeming it safe to search. He looked over and right in front of his blue eyes was a huge can of chocolate pudding sitting on the counter. Carl remembered when his mother would pack chocolate pudding in his lunchbox before everything happened. He remembered wanting to save the best part of his lunch for last, but always eating it first. It was one of his favorite treats. The memory brought a little smile to Carl's face despite his overall sadness.

Carl took a little moment to remember what it was like when his mother was alive, when his parents were in love, and when his father felt more like a 'dad' than a leader of a group of survivors in the zombie apocalypse. It was nice then. Things were easy… simple. His only concerns in those days were trying to get good grades and finishing his homework quickly enough to go ride bikes with his friends.

 _No point in dwelling in the past right now,_ he thought.

Carl knew it would be smarter to check the second floor before trying to open the can in front of him, but he didn't hear anything the whole time he was in the house. He figured it would be okay to take a minute or two to open the can and get a taste. He stuck his knife through the metal and began cutting away at the lid as quietly as he could. The chocolatey smell hit his nose and his stomach growled. He didn't realize how hungry he was because he was worried about his father, sister, and the rest of their group. Carl managed to get the lid off and he looked at the chocolate treat. He was surprised at how something so simple could make his mood a little bit better, and he decided it was because there was nothing in this new world that could really make anyone happy. Carl knew it'd be a good idea to find a spoon first, but he decided that he'd just use his finger for the first taste since he couldn't wait. He took his index finger and dipped it into the pudding.

"You know, I was planning on eating some of that chocolate pudding for breakfast, but I see you've already gotten to it first," Carl heard an unfamiliar voice say.

* * *

"Lori? Lori!" Rick yelled as he chased his wife down the tunnels of the prison. She wasn't moving, but the hallway seemed to get longer each time his foot pounded the cement. He was gasping for air, but he didn't stop. He wouldn't stop until he could reach her.

"Stop chasing me, Rick! You can't keep doing this! _We_ can't keep doing this!" she cried, staring at Rick with tears and pity in her eyes.

"But… I love you, Lori," Rick said in between pants while taking a moment to catch his breath.

"You might love me, Rick, but you're not in love with me. Not anymore. You haven't been for a long time." Lori shook her head sadly, upset for the man that she once knew so well.

"I can't do this without you. Carl and Judith need you. I can't do this alone," Rick professed as tears were starting to pool in his eyes.

"You don't have to," she said, smiling sadly. "It's time to let me go."

"I can't lose you ag-," Rick started, but Lori turned around and began to walk away from him, further down the never-ending tunnel. Rick began to run again. "Lori, please! Wait!" He was starting to catch up to her, but he tripped over something that was in his path and hit the floor. He looked over to see what it was, and the sight made him sick. Judith's car seat was now toppled over, blood spilling out of it. The sounds of Judith crying and screaming bounced off of the walls around Rick, and he began to feel faint.

Walkers were coming from around the corners and closing in on Rick. He tried to get up, but he felt too weak and ended up on his back. He was emotionally and physically drained. Rick remained on the floor, looking up and inviting death. A walker ahead of the herd approached Rick slowly before dropping to the floor and opening its jaw-

Rick woke up with a start, sweating profusely and breathing heavily. He sat up slowly and looked around the room, checking his surroundings. Rick was confused at first, but the memories of the past few days bombarded him. He started to feel nauseous, and swallowed hard before realizing that Carl wasn't in the living room with him.

"Carl?" Rick called out weakly. He paused for a second, waiting for a response. When there wasn't one, Rick felt his stomach drop and his heart seized with panic. He attempted to stand up, but he didn't have enough strength and ended up hitting the floor with his knees.

"Carl," Rick called out one more time before he saw black and fainted.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** So, this is my first fanfic and I'm more than a little nervous. I'm not the best writer out there, but it's something that I really enjoy doing, and hopefully I can improve over time. I'm not the best at keeping a schedule or making sure I have something written by a certain time. I'm thinking about posting once, maybe (read as: unlikely) twice a week. Don't hold me to that, though! I have no clue where this story is going right now, but I have some ideas, and I couldn't help but start writing as soon as the idea of this story popped into my head. I have another idea for a story, but I'm going to focus on this one for right now. I don't think every chapter is going to be this long, but who knows. Anyway, enough with my rambling! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Next, we'll meet Michonne!


	2. Chapter 2

Michonne sliced through the skull of a walker that was trudging in her direction with ease using her katana. The walker's body dropped to the floor and she wiped some of the blood off of her weapon using the remains of the walker's shirt. She had been in the woods for days now, just wandering and making sure she didn't get bitten. She would never let her life be ended by some rotting corpse looking for a meal. Not after how many times people were taken away from her in that exact same way. She ambled through the thick vegetation with no idea of where she was going to go or what she was going to do next. At this point, Michonne was simply alive. Well, she was surviving. She hadn't felt truly alive for a while now.

Michonne tugged both of the chains her pets were on and looked at them over her shoulders. Their jaws were removed and the arms that they previously had were now lying somewhere in the woods. Doing this kept other walkers from trying to bite her; it disguised her as one of them. She almost chuckled at the thought. They were an unfortunate reminder of the way Michonne felt about herself at that moment. No direction… no purpose- just thoughtlessly trudging along.

A yawn freed its way through her lips, reminding her of the lack of sleep she had been getting recently. She could never get sleep when she was in the woods. Knowing that something- or someone- could ambush her at any given moment stopped her from being able to relax long enough to sleep for even an hour straight. The occasional dreams and memories that plagued her mind didn't help, either. Michonne sighed. She really didn't know how she would be able to keep going like this. The loneliness was really starting to get to her.

That brought her mind to the woman she met almost a year ago. Andrea was wandering through the woods, hungry and dehydrated, when Michonne found her. She remembered how it was when they first met. They didn't trust one another right away, but they were all each other had at the time. Somewhere along the way, they became great friends. Michonne didn't know how much she needed human interaction until she met Andrea. In a way, Andrea helped Michonne open up in a way she never thought she would after losing…

Michonne scowled and took a deep breath. She didn't need to think about them right now. She was only just starting to accept the fact that her closest friend in a long time was gone. She felt a wave of guilt and sadness fill her chest thinking about it. She remembered exactly how it happened.

* * *

Andrea wasn't feeling well for a couple of days, but they were running out of supplies and Andrea knew that it would be best for the both of them to go out and try to find something. Anything to allow them to go for another day. Michonne didn't agree, but she knew better than to tell Andrea she couldn't go. Andrea was stubborn and wanted to contribute; there was no way she would stay behind just because she didn't feel the greatest. Michonne figured it would be best to only go a few miles out and find another place to stay due to Andrea's condition. She knew Andrea was a great shot and could hold her own, but she didn't want her to exert herself too much.

They gathered the small number of items they had accumulated over time and left the small cabin they were staying at around midday. It was hot outside, and after walking for about an hour, Andrea began to show signs of exhaustion. Michonne knew that getting supplies was important, but she didn't want to risk her friend's health.

"Michonne," Andrea said, "we need water. We need something to eat. Waiting around isn't going to do us any good. I know you've been giving me some of your food and water."

Michonne looked at Andrea. As if to prove her right, Michonne's stomach chose that moment to growl ferociously. Michonne narrowed her eyes and looked at her stomach, annoyed that it gave her away. Andrea smiled and shook her head.

"Alright, but let me know if you're feeling too tired." Michonne knew she wouldn't, but she had to say it to make herself feel better.

Andrea stopped walking and looked at her friend. "Thanks for looking out for me, Michonne." She wrapped Michonne into a hug, truly grateful that she came across this mysterious woman when she thought her life was going to be over. Michonne hadn't been hugged for a long time now, and she wasn't sure how she felt about the sudden act of… intimacy, but she returned the hug with one arm. She realized that the both of them probably needed something as simple as a hug for a long time.

"Alright, alright. Let me go before you get me sick." Michonne said, chuckling. Andrea laughed and their trek continued.

They came across a few homes as they walked, but there was nothing good in them. The next home that they entered had a few items that were worth taking, but nothing that could feed and hydrate the both of them for more than a day. Michonne decided the next house would be the last. Andrea was looking even worse, and even though she would never admit it, she felt worse, too. Michonne knew she needed some rest.

The next house that they searched was bigger than the previous ones. Michonne hoped that that meant there would be more supplies to take. They slowly entered the home and were relieved when it seemed like it wasn't too badly damaged. It seemed like the messier the home, the less likely you were to find something worth taking. Michonne checked all of the rooms on the lower level, not finding much of anything until she searched the bathroom. She was happy to see that there was soap and a first aid kit. There was a tube of toothpaste, too, but not her favorite flavor. She didn't care too much, though. Toothpaste was something that she hated not having with her.

Michonne walked to the kitchen and found a few cans of vegetables, beans, tuna, and a couple bottles of water. She smiled in triumph knowing that she and Andrea would be okay for at least two days. They would be able to stay in the house for a couple of days before having to worry about going out and looking for more food. Thinking about that made Michonne realize that she hadn't heard Andrea while she was down there. Michonne didn't think much of it; she just figured Andrea went ahead and started checking the rooms upstairs. The feeling in Michonne's gut was telling her something different, however. The scream from upstairs confirmed that feeling. Michonne raced up the steps, taking two at a time, and barreled into the room she thought she heard the scream from.

"Andrea!" Michonne cried out, seeing Andrea on the floor fighting off two walkers. Michonne quickly pierced both of their skulls with her katana, and threw them off of her friend. Andrea was crying silent tears, holding out her arm and inspecting the flesh that was bitten into. Michonne felt weak. She didn't know what to do. She just stood there, looking at the wound, frozen. It was bringing up memories that she tried to bury long ago, and she could feel locked up emotions bubbling their way free. Andrea looked up at Michonne, and her face was deathly pale. Michonne didn't know if it was because of the illness that Andrea was experiencing, or if it was because of the situation. It was probably both. They stayed silent for a few minutes, Andrea sitting and Michonne standing, before Andrea broke the silence.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, hanging her head low. Michonne was quick to sit next to her friend and pulled Andrea into a hug with both arms.

"Don't apologize to me, Andrea. This wasn't your fault. I shouldn't have let you leave. I knew how sick you were! I knew that this could have happened and I let you come along anyway!" Michonne's emotions were starting to go everywhere. She was devastated for her friend. She was pissed that she left Andrea by herself. She felt hatred towards the corpses lying on the floor; the corpses that walked around this world killing people.

"Stop," Andrea said. She was silent for a while before reaching over and grabbing a picture Michonne didn't notice. Andrea looked at it and then turned it towards Michonne so she could see. There were two girls in the picture, seemingly sisters, with matching blonde hair and smiles. She looked over at the walkers that she killed and guessed that those were their bodies. "It reminded me of a picture I took with my sister before all of this happened." Michonne was silent. She knew Andrea lost people, but she never knew exactly what happened. She didn't push Andrea for any details, either. Michonne didn't want to share her past, and she didn't expect anyone else to. "I could hear the screams and the gunshots again. I could see Amy dying right in front of my eyes again. I didn't hear them." Andrea was sobbing. Michonne didn't try to stop her own tears from falling.

For the next couple of hours, Michonne and Andrea just sat there. Andrea talked about her life before the apocalypse occasionally, but they were mostly silent. Just taking in the events that happened. Taking in the fact that this was life now.

"Michonne, thank you. Meeting you made me feel like… like I had a sister again." Michonne's heart broke all over again.

"Thank _you_ , Andrea." Michonne sighed. "I lost people, and I was a wreck. You helped me feel what it was like to have family again." Andrea smiled faintly. She was quiet for some time before turning her head to face Michonne.

"Don't let me turn into one of those things. Please." Michonne nodded, more tears escaping from her eyes. She sat with Andrea, holding her hand until she felt it go limp. Michonne swallowed roughly and looked over. Andrea's head was leaning to the side and her body was completely still. Michonne knew that it was only a matter of minutes until she turned, and she wanted to make sure that she could at least do this for Andrea. Michonne got up and unsheathed her katana. She lined up her weapon, looked away, and cut through Andrea's skull. Michonne gathered the supplies she had before walking to the door. She looked back at her friend once more before she left.

* * *

Michonne continued to walk slowly through the woods until she saw a gap in between the trees. It looked like it led to a road, and Michonne figured that it would be a good idea for her to see if she could find a house with some food, water, and a bed. If she got lucky, they'd have a running shower. She could feel the dirt that accumulated during her days in the woods, and the quick baths she took in the small bodies of water she found weren't very effective.

Before walking out to the road, Michonne killed the pets she had with her and gathered the chains. Sometimes those pets were more annoying than they were useful, and Michonne didn't have time to match their slow pace. She wanted to find somewhere to go before it got dark. She walked along the side of the road until she came across a street lined with homes. She searched a few of the homes that looked a little worse for wear, but she didn't come across anything. Michonne found her way to a nicer looking home and entered. The door was already unlocked, so she carefully searched each room and each floor before feeling comfortable enough to lock herself in. She was happy to see that the house was relatively clean. Michonne walked towards the kitchen and saw a huge can of pudding on the counter. She smiled thinking about how much she loved sweets and decided that she'd probably eat some of it for breakfast in the morning.

Feeling completely worn out after the past couple of days, Michonne walked up the steps and walked into the closest bedroom, closing the door behind her. She peeled off her vest before walking into the attached bathroom to see if the shower worked. The water pressure was really low and it was cold, so she wouldn't be able to take the shower that she really wanted, but she was happy to be able to take her time and wash herself in a tub. She grabbed her soap, a washcloth and towel that were folded up in the linen closet, and her toothpaste.

After cleaning herself and brushing her teeth, Michonne put on a big shirt she found in the house. She plopped on the bed and spread her limbs, sighing in contentment. She let the comfort of the mattress take her to sleep.

* * *

Michonne was startled awake by what she thought was the sound of metal. She looked outside and saw that it was light out. She woke up a few times during the middle of the night, but she felt a lot more rested than usual. Michonne jumped out of bed and slipped on her pants before opening the bedroom door, katana in hand. She stuck her head out and listened, confirming that there was noise coming from downstairs. It sounded like the kitchen to her. She slowly walked down the steps, wrapping both hands around the handle of her weapon and quietly tiptoed towards the kitchen.

She stood there looking at the boy in front of her, his back turned towards her. Michonne could see that the noise she heard was the boy cutting the lid off of the can of pudding. He was obviously a teenager, but she couldn't tell exactly how old he was without seeing his face. She decided to bite the bullet and talk to him.

"You know, I was planning on eating some of that chocolate pudding for breakfast, but I see you've already gotten to it first," Michonne said, still holding on to her katana, but not aiming it towards him. The boy turned around quickly and lifted his gun, pointing it at Michonne's head. She noticed that he wasn't shaking. "Woah, kid. I'm not going to hurt you," she said while holding one arm up next to her face in surrender. "If I was going to, I would have done it already. You didn't even notice me come down here."

The boy didn't move for a moment. Michonne could see his blue eyes scan hers for some sort of sign that she was lying. She figured he was about 13. He lowered his gun, but he didn't drop his stance fully. If Michonne made a move to try to harm him, he would simply have to raise his arms and pull the trigger. The kid could read people and he was smart. Michonne was starting to like him already.

She put her free hand on one of her hips. "So, what's your name?"

He took a moment to answer before replied. "Carl," he said. His voice was a little deeper than she thought it would be. She raised his age to 14 in her mind.

"Well, Carl, how about we find a couple of spoons and bowls, and then we can share some of this pudding. You can tell me what a kid your age is doing out here all alone."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Okay, well that was a little longer than I intended it to be! I wanted to keep going, but then it really would have been out of control. Hopefully you guys liked hearing about a part of Michonne's past. Instead of having one or two chapters posted every week, I'm just going to put these out whenever I finish a chapter. Thanks for reading. xxx


	3. Chapter 3

Michonne walked past Carl slowly and went further into the kitchen. She could tell that he was still wary of her, and she wasn't wrong. Carl wasn't sure what to think of the woman. She seemed like she was being truthful, but living in this world taught him that strangers usually couldn't be trusted. Carl reprimanded himself for not checking the whole house before trying to open that can. If it were someone else up there and not this woman, Carl would most likely be dead. He watched her go through the cabinets and the drawers searching for bowls and spoons. She pulled out what she was looking for and turned around to face him. Michonne leaned against the counter and looked at him as he was observing her.

"What's your name?" Carl demanded. He didn't mean to ask her in such a terse way, but he still wasn't sure what was going on, and he was trying to think of what he would do if she tried anything.

Michonne raised an eyebrow at his tone, but she inwardly smiled at his serious attitude. "I'm Michonne," she said, walking towards him and holding out her hand for him to shake. Carl just looked at her, leaving her arm hanging in the air. Michonne smirked at his bravado and walked past him. She grabbed the can of pudding, put the items in her arms down on the table, and sat in one of the chairs. Carl watched as she scooped a generous amount of pudding into a bowl and dug in. After a few spoonfuls of the sweet treat, Michonne looked over at Carl. She wasn't sure what he was thinking, but she didn't want him to think that she would try to hurt him. Michonne knew that people couldn't be trusted anymore, but she was trustworthy and she intended on making him believe that. She wasn't sure why she cared so much. She figured it was because he was the first living kid she had seen in a long time.

"Do you want some?" she asked, pointing to the can. "I'll happily eat it all if you don't." Carl looked at her face to see if she was bluffing, but she looked completely serious. He slowly walked over to the table and sat across from her, not wanting to be in her reach. Michonne didn't mind that; she was glad to see that the kid was cautious. She filled Carl's bowl with pudding and dropped his spoon inside of it. "Here," she said, sliding the bowl across the table.

"Thanks," Carl muttered. He took the spoon and ate some of the pudding, delighting in the chocolatey taste. He tried to remember the last time he had something sweet, and he recalled his father bringing him some candy from a run not too long ago. Carl's thoughts were brought to his father and he hoped that his dad was still okay. He also hoped that he wouldn't wake up before Carl's return. His dad would be pissed if he knew that his son was out wandering alone.

"So, do you have parents with you? Or an adult?" Michonne asked, trying to figure out why the boy was by himself.

"My dad," Carl answered after a long pause.

"No mother?"

"No."

"I'm sorry." Michonne didn't know what else to say. They were silently eating for a while before Carl spoke.

"Are you alone?" he asked, curious about the woman he was sharing this special treat with.

"Yes."  
"No kids? No one you love?"

"No," Michonne responded quietly.

"I'm sorry," he replied, repeating the same words she said to him. There was a slight pause in the conversation while both Michonne and Carl thought about their loved ones that they lost.

"So where's your dad?" Michonne asked, trying to get her mind off of the many tragedies she had been through. That was the easiest way to deal with the painful memories. Not thinking about it. It's what kept her alive all this time.

Carl wasn't sure how to answer that. He didn't feel like Michonne was a danger to him, but he wasn't sure if it was a good idea to divulge any information to her. Maybe she wanted to know what they had so she could deem whether or not they had anything worth stealing. Or maybe she was crazy and liked knowing about the people she was planning on killing. Different scenarios quickly played in his head, but as he watched her shovel another mouthful of pudding into her mouth while looking at him inquisitively, he could tell that she wasn't like that. She didn't have that crazy look in her eyes that Shane had in his last days. Or the evil look that the Governor possessed. She looked a little sad, but just about everyone looked that way nowadays.

"I left him in a house not too far from this one," Carl admitted. He hesitated before looking down at his pudding. "He's pretty hurt." Carl was still mad at his father, but he was starting to feel guilty for leaving him alone.

Michonne raised her eyebrows wondering if 'pretty hurt' meant bitten by a walker. "How'd he get hurt?" she asked, hoping that the boy's father didn't die already. If his father was gone, then Michonne would try to take care of him even if she didn't like the idea of trying to protect a child in the apocalypse. She already failed doing that once, and she didn't know what she'd do if she failed again.

"Some crazy guy named the Governor and his group attacked the place we were staying at. We lost people… I'm not sure if they're dead or not, but they're gone. My dad was almost beaten to death by the Governor, but I shot him before he could kill my dad."

Michonne was shocked. She knew that in order to survive in this world, you had to kill or be killed, but to see a young kid talk about shooting someone so casually made her realize how fucked up things truly were. She wondered just how much this boy had been through in his life, how many lives he had ended since the apocalypse started. However, she was also happy to know that he could handle his own and endure the shit-storm they were in. She was hopeful that he would be one of the kids to survive without having to hold their parent's hand the whole time.

"Why did you come out here by yourself?"

"I needed to find some supplies. The house we went to only had a few cans of peas."

Michonne and Carl remained silent while finishing off their bowls of pudding. Michonne wasn't too sure what to do at this point. If Carl was an adult, then she wouldn't have a problem with leaving him to fend for himself while she continued her travels with no intended destination. The fact that he was a kid changed things.

"Well, did you find what you need?" Michonne asked, deciding that she would help him out and get him to his father. After that she would be on her way. That thought made Michonne's stomach clench. She'd be alone again, walking around with her pets, just as lonely as before. Meeting Andrea made her remember how much she liked having someone around. People weren't made to be lonely. It did things to you, especially now.

"Not really. I found some tissue and this can of pudding. I didn't go through the cabinets or the pantry, yet."

"Tell you what, look through the kitchen while I go upstairs and get my stuff. Then we'll leave and search a few more places and get you back to your father."

Carl stared at Michonne. "Why are you trying to help me?"

"You're a kid and I want-,"

"I'm not a kid," Carl interrupted, obviously irritated with Michonne's statement.

"Well, you sure as hell were acting like one when you decided to open a can of pudding before checking the whole house." Carl didn't say anything, proving to Michonne that he knew he made a mistake. "So, I'm going to help you out and get you back to your father safely. If I don't, it's just going to be on my conscience, and that's honestly the last thing I need right now."

"Fine," Carl huffed. He was a little miffed that she called him out on his stupid behavior, but he knew she was right. Carl was always telling his father that he wasn't a kid, but here he was, in a house with a stranger whose presence he was oblivious to while he tried to open a can of pudding. He swore to himself that that was the last time he would do something so stupid again. Carl figured it was because of what had recently happened at the prison, but there was no excuse. He couldn't let things like that affect his actions. He decided he would prove to this woman that he was more of a man than a kid, something that his father didn't seem to understand. Carl wanted her respect for some reason, and he was determined to get it.

Carl pushed his chair back, walked to the kitchen, and began rummaging through the cabinets. Michonne watched him attend to his task before standing up and going upstairs. Once she got to the room that she slept in, she took off the t-shirt she wore for the night and replaced it with her tank top and vest. She went through a few of the drawers and took a few articles of clothing before surveying the room one last time. She noticed a comic book on the floor by the nightstand and picked it up. She remembered how much she used to enjoy them when she was younger, and stuffed it into her bag. She'd give it to Carl once she got him to his father.

Michonne double checked the rest of the rooms for anything useful that she may have missed, but she found that she scanned it pretty thoroughly when she first looked. She headed back downstairs and saw Carl stuffing a few cans into his bag. He looked up when she entered the kitchen and slid two half-empty bags of cereal towards her.

"Can you put these in your bag? I don't want these cans to crush it." Michonne nodded and carefully stored the cereal.

"Find any water?"

"Yeah, there were a few bottles."

Michonne pulled out her almost empty water bottle and filled it using the tap water that was slowly running out. Carl finished putting the cans in his bag and zipped it up before looking at the can that still contained pudding. The can wouldn't fit into his bag, so he would have to leave it. Michonne saw him stare longingly at the pudding and snickered quietly. She opened the cabinet that contained the bowls and found a decently sized one with a lid that would fit into his bag. She got a new spoon for him, filled the bowl with pudding, and handed it to him. He smiled bashfully and mumbled a thanks before stuffing it into his bag.

"Alright, let's go." Michonne grabbed her katana and looked out of the window. Seeing that the coast was clear, she opened the door and they headed out.

They didn't talk much while they searched several more homes, too focused on making sure they cleared every place and looked out for danger. Michonne could see that Carl really knew what he was doing. Whenever he checked a room, he would lead with his gun aimed steadily and check every corner. She decided that she wouldn't hold his mistake earlier against him.

Michonne and Carl walked out of the last home that they decided to check after several hours of searching places. They found a few extra supplies, and even though Michonne was hoping there would be more, she was happy with the little that they managed to get. When they divided their findings in the last house, Michonne made sure to leave Carl with more supplies so his father would be able to eat, too. She didn't want him to have to go back out while his father was (hopefully) recovering.

Carl led the way to their final destination, the home where he left his father, and began thinking about his dad's condition. When he left, his dad was unconscious and breathing raggedly. Carl didn't know what to expect once he entered the house, and the closer they got, the more anxious Carl was becoming. He didn't know what he would do if he found the corpse of his father wandering around the house looking for human flesh to consume. He already had to put down one parent, and he didn't think he could do it again. If it came down to it, Carl would probably just let his father kill him. Even though he didn't want to be dependent on anyone, he didn't think he could be alone, especially since Judith was gone.

When they finally reached the house, Carl wasn't sure what to do. He didn't want to go in there by himself not knowing whether his father was alive or not, and he also didn't want Michonne to leave. He had taken a liking to her over the last few hours, and the fact that she helped him without even knowing who he was spoke volumes. People didn't do things like that during the apocalypse, and Carl knew that keeping someone like her around would only be beneficial.

"Is this the house?" Michonne asked, wondering if that's why he stopped walking. Carl nodded, but didn't move or say anything. Michonne wasn't sure why he was just standing there, but she didn't dwell on it since she was too busy thinking about how she was about to be lonely again. She wanted to stay, but she didn't even know if this kid liked her or not, and she didn't know anything about his father. Michonne sighed, accepting the fact that she would just have to live on the road again by herself, no one but those pets to keep her company. She looked at Carl and found that he was watching her.

"Did you say something?" she asked. Carl just shook his head.

 _He's probably waiting for me to leave_ , Michonne thought. She rummaged through her bag and pulled out the comic book that she found.

"Here," she said, handing the comic book to Carl. "I used to read these when I was younger, and I thought maybe you'd like it." Carl observed the comic book, and then looked at her.

"Thanks," he said, grinning for the first time at the katana-wielding woman in front of him. He wanted to ask her to stay, but he wasn't sure how.

"Well," Michonne said after a few moments, "I guess I'll get going then." She turned quickly, not wanting to think too much about what she could possibly be leaving behind. Michonne felt emotional while leaving, and she didn't want to think about why she was feeling that way at all.

"Wait!" Carl yelled as she began walking away. "Do you want to stay?"

"Oh, I don't think-"

"At least until my dad is better," Carl said, not knowing what else would convince her to stay. Michonne was feeling conflicted. She didn't want to leave, but she also didn't want to risk caring about Carl only to have to leave when his father was better. She was already starting to befriend him, and it was making her panic a little. "It's probably going to get dark in a couple hours anyway. It's not a good idea to be out here alone at night."

She couldn't really argue with that. "Okay, I'll stay for now." She ignored the relief that she felt and followed Carl to the back of the house. He fiddled with the lock before opening the back door and peeking in. "Dad?" he called out. He didn't get an answer.

Carl walked in and went to the front of the house where he left his father on the couch. He looked at the sofa and almost felt his heart stop until he looked down and saw his dad on the floor. He walked a little closer, and could hear his father's quiet, ragged breathing. Carl carefully grabbed his dad's arm and checked to see if he had a pulse. The relief Carl felt almost made his knees weak. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and looked at Michonne. She looked at him cautiously until she saw the look of relief on Carl's face and relaxed a little bit.

"He must have fallen off. Can you help me get him back on here?" Michonne nodded and walked towards the unconscious body. She grabbed his legs and together they plopped him onto the couch. Michonne finally looked at his face and saw that it was wounded and bloody. She grabbed her bag and pulled out the first-aid kit she found earlier.

"His wounds need to be cleaned," she said while pulling out some alcohol wipes and bandages. She looked up at Carl. "Go make sure all of the doors and windows are locked, and cover the windows with the curtains." Carl nodded, grateful that she was helping his father, and left to do what she asked.

Michonne opened the wipes and carefully cleaned the man's wounds. She patched him up with some bandages and moved on to wiping the rest of the blood and dirt from his face, uncovering a handsome man underneath all of the grime. She took a moment to admire her work, among other things, and moved on to cleaning up the wipes and packages.

Carl walked down the stairs and approached Michonne. "Is there anything else you need me to do?" he asked.

Michonne made a show of looking around the house before turning to Carl and smiling at him. "No, I think everything should be fine for right now. Go eat and get some rest. It's been a long day."

Carl nodded and gathered his can of spaghetti and meatballs, his pudding, a water bottle, and his comic book. He began to make his way up the stairs, but turned around. "Thanks, Michonne."

"No problem, Carl."

Carl made his way up the stairs and into one of the rooms. Michonne grabbed some beans and her water, sat on the loveseat near the sofa, and proceeded to eat her food. She thought about the weird day that she had along with the current peculiar situation she was in. She didn't know what she would do tomorrow, but for now she was just happy to be alive for another day. Michonne finished her food and settled into the loveseat more, letting her thoughts carry her to sleep.

She woke up the next morning feeling well-rested. Michonne couldn't remember the last time she was able to sleep throughout the whole entire night, but she was relieved. Any night without nightmares was a good one. She stretched her body out and was about to open her eyes until she felt cold metal on her forehead.

"Who the fuck are you?" a deep, gravelly voice hissed. Michonne opened her eyes to see a silver gun pointed directly in between her eyes.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Sorry it's been a while. I tried to make it up to you guys with a longer chapter. I hope you enjoyed it, and I'll try to make sure I get chapters up more often. As for the content in the story, I don't think I'm going to follow the show too much, just so everyone knows. Hopefully that doesn't bother anyone too much. Thanks for the reviews, too! I think I replied to almost all of them. Happy Easter to those of you celebrating! Hope you all have a good weekend.


	4. Chapter 4

Rick slowly opened his eyes, letting in the small amount of light that peeked out from the curtains. His body still hurt, and he had quite the headache, but he didn't feel like he was on death's doorstep anymore. Rick was just glad to still be alive. He needed to be there for his children. Rick's heart dropped as he remembered. He had no idea where Judith or anyone else in his group was. Rick let out a long exhale, stress hitting him more than it had in a long time. He had no idea how long he had been unconscious, but he knew that it was important to get on his feet and look for anyone in his group right away.

Rick sat up slowly, groaning and closing his eyes at the aches he felt in his body. His muscles were sore, he felt bruised, the thigh that was grazed by a bullet was hurting, and his ribs were fucking killing him. He inhaled a shaky breath, let it out and opened his eyes. He looked at the table in front of him and saw some kind of sword resting on it. Rick's eyebrows furrowed, trying to remember whether that was there or not when he and Carl stumbled into the house. He would have remembered a sword just resting there, even in the state he was in. Rick's confusion quickly turned into awareness. He looked around him and was shocked to find a feminine figure lying on the couch near his.

He withdrew his Colt Python from the holster and walked slowly towards the body, concerned about Carl's whereabouts and confused as to who this person was and why she was here. He towered over the sleeping body that was starting to stir and slowly raised his arm, pointing it right between the intruder's eyes.

"Who the fuck are you?" Rick hissed harshly, pressing the gun to her head harder when she tried to sit up. The woman looked at him fiercely, her dark eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed. When she didn't answer, Rick nudged the gun harder. "Where is my son?" he almost yelled.

"Listen, asshole," Michonne seethed, "your son is perfectly fine, and I've been here trying to help him take care of you." She was absolutely pissed at the nerve of this guy. She could understand his reaction, but she was too mad to give him any excuses and she had just woken up. "Get your gun out of my face." Her voice was calm, but her eyes were full of unbridled emotion.

Rick tilted his head and stared at her, trying to intimidate her in his broken state, but she didn't give in. They were stuck in an intense stare down, his stormy blues on her expressive browns, until they heard noise on the steps.

"Dad?" Carl stood at the bottom of the steps, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Rick looked over at him, relieved to see that he was alright. He looked back at the woman, narrowed his eyes at her, and slowly walked towards his son, still feeling the effects of the beating his body took. Rick looked over Carl making sure he wasn't hurt, and then raised his eyebrow at his son.

"You gonna tell me who that is and what she's doin' here?" Rick asked, knowing he wasn't going to like the answer from Carl. He glanced over at her to make sure she wasn't going to try anything, but she was still seated on the couch, arms folded in annoyance.

"I went to look for some supplies and I saw her and she helped me out," Carl said, giving a very abridged version of his first meeting with Michonne.

"Carl, you know shouldn't have gone out there by yourself. It's dangerous."

"I'm not a kid. I can take care of myself, and I did. I got food and water, I secured the house, and I met Michonne and she helped bandage you up." Carl didn't want to go into detail as to how he and Michonne crossed paths, knowing that would completely obliterate his argument.

Rick regarded his son closely, before turning to face the woman, Michonne. "You got a camp?" he asked, wondering if there were more people that he needed to worry about.

"No."

"How'd you know we were here?"

"Like Carl said, he saw me. He went into the house I slept in, I wasn't paying attention, and he snuck up on me. I told him we could help each other out, and now here we are."

"And I'm just supposed to believe you?"

"If I was going to do something, I would have done it while you were unconscious."

Rick didn't like her answer, but she was right. If she were really going to try to kill him or Carl, she probably wouldn't have waited for him to regain consciousness. Despite bandaging him up and helping Carl, Rick was still wary of her. He wasn't very trusting when it came to strangers, and the fight at the prison certainly didn't help.

"Well, I'm awake now, so you can go. Thanks for the help."

"Yeah, you're awake, but you can barely move," she said, pointing out how bad of a shape he was in. "If something happened, Carl would basically be fending for himself. I know you lost people; I can help you find them. It'll be much easier with three people instead of two. You need me." Michonne didn't like that she was indirectly begging this man to let her stay, but the thought of being out there again by herself trumped that feeling. The fact that there were probably more of them out there, an actual group, made her want to stay even more. The last time she had been with a group was at the refugee camp, and even though things didn't work out, she felt like she was doing something there.

Rick stared at her and wondered how much Carl told her. She made a good point, though; having another person would help. More than he wanted to admit. He didn't like the thought of someone he didn't know being so close to his child, but he couldn't deny that Carl was still safe, even after they were together without Rick's knowledge. He sighed and rubbed the beard that was becoming thicker than he ever remembered it being.

"Dad," Carl called softly. Rick looked at his son and watched as Carl nodded his head, telling him that it was okay to let her stay. Carl already felt like they could trust her. Besides, he liked her, even in the short amount of time they knew each other. It also helped that Michonne covered his ass with the story she told his father. If Rick found out that she snuck up on him, he'd never get his father to see him as the man he was becoming.

Rick faced Michonne again, letting his eyes rest on her so that he could size her up. She still hadn't made any sudden moves, and he didn't get a bad feeling about her. Even though he hadn't carried his badge for a while, his cop instincts didn't abandon him, and he was still confident in his ability to read people. He made his way to her, invading her personal space, and holstered his gun.

"Stand up," he said gruffly.

"I already told you-"

"Stand up and hold your arms out," he said, cutting her off. Michonne let out a heavy sigh, trying not to let him frustrate her further, and did as he asked. She understood his caution; he needed to make sure he and his son would be safe. She respected it, even. Besides, she was the one asking him to take a complete stranger in. The least she could do was let him deem whether or not she was considered a danger to him and Carl on his own terms.

"How many walkers have you killed?" Rick asked her while patting her down, trying to make sure that she didn't have any weapons on her.

"I don't know. Too many to count." Michonne was confused by the seemingly random question, but she went along with it anyway.

"Turn around," Rick said as he finished checking her front for weapons. She turned carefully, and Rick noticed how… shapely she was. He shifted his train of thought after letting his eyes linger for only a second. "How many people have you killed?" he asked, resuming his questioning and search for possible concealed weapons on her.

"Four," Michonne said after a pause. Rick finished patting her down and she turned around to face him again. He looked at her before he spoke again.

"Why?"

Michonne was hoping he wouldn't ask that. "One was some random guy who tried to kill me while I was traveling. The other three… I had my reasons." Michonne wouldn't elaborate further.

Rick stared at her curiously, wondering what she was refusing to tell him. He figured it was probably something personal since she told him about killing someone who was trying to harm her. She most likely lost people, and he knew what that was like all too well. He decided not to push for now and nodded.

"Alright. You can stay. But if you try anything, I'll kill you," Rick said confidently, resting his hand on his holstered weapon.

"Fair enough." Michonne didn't mind that he threatened her. If anything, she was relieved that he did. She felt much better about being with someone who wasn't easily accepting of random strangers.

Rick grabbed Michonne's katana from the table and held it in front of him. "I'll keep this safe and sound for right now." Michonne wanted to argue, but she decided against it for the time being. Rick made his way towards Carl and patted his shoulder. "You go eat breakfast. I'm gonna go upstairs, get myself cleaned up a little bit. Holler if you need anything."

Carl rolled his eyes at his father's horrible attempt at trying to slyly let him know to yell if Michonne tried something. "I have a feeling I won't need to," Carl said, letting his dad know that he trusted Michonne. Rick watched Carl go to the kitchen before beginning his slow walk up the stairs.

"Thanks for letting me stay," Michonne said quickly before he left her sight. He nodded in acknowledgement and was about to start walking again, but stopped at her voice. "You didn't tell me your name," she said.

"Rick," he said, continuing his slow stride up the steps. "Rick Grimes."

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry for the three week absence! It was a combination of being busy and getting a little stuck with this chapter. Hopefully the next chapter will be up next week-ish, but no promises (because I'm terrible at writing when I need to write). I know now why some writers make sure they write a handful of chapters before posting. Lesson learned! I've also been writing another story (I know, I know), but I'm focusing more on this one. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed! xo


	5. Chapter 5

Rick ambled up the steps and went to the nearest bathroom. He walked in and closed the door behind him, let out a sigh, and then peered in the mirror. He could see that there were several small bandages on his face, and the skin underneath them was still slightly bruised in some areas. He also noticed that his face wasn't very bloody or dirty. Michonne must have cleaned him up pretty well. He felt a little guilty for not being very welcoming towards Michonne, but he didn't regret being cautious, especially since his son's safety could've potentially been at risk.

Rick slowly took off the remainder of what used to be a decent shirt and observed the blue and purple bruises on his torso. His ribs hurt, but he didn't think they were broken; probably just bruised. It would have taken much longer for him to heal if he broke his ribs, and he didn't have much time to waste if he was going to try to search for Judith and his group. He didn't even know where he would start looking to try to find them. At this point, they could all be anywhere. He just hoped that everyone was safe, especially his daughter. Rick examined the rest of his body, noticing that he was bruised in a few other places. The thigh that was grazed by the bullet wasn't as bad as Rick had initially thought, and he decided to wrap it to prevent it from getting infected.

He walked into the biggest bedroom and rummaged through the drawers before finding a few t-shirts and then went back into the bathroom. He ripped two of the shirts so he could tend to his injuries and help the healing process go a little quicker. Rick wrapped his ribs and his wound with the ripped cloth, and pulled on the third t-shirt.

Rick returned to the bedroom and sat down on the bed just to gather his thoughts. If someone told him a week ago that all of this would've happened, he would've laughed at them. And then he probably would've shot them for raising his suspicions and threatening his family. He thought he could make that prison work; it was safe, they had a farm going, they were finally getting used to being able to live a little. He should've known better, though. Lori dying was probably the first sign that things weren't going to work out there.

That brought his mind to the dream that he had just recently. He stopped seeing Lori a little before the prison went up in flames, but almost every time he managed to fall asleep, he would dream about life before the apocalypse. Before the problems with Lori started. They were always dreams of the happy memories, and when he would wake up, his heart would ache knowing that those times were long gone. The last dream he had of her was different. He couldn't recall the whole thing, but he remembered Lori telling him to let her go and tripping over Judith's bloody car seat when he tried to chase her. He had no idea where his mind was lately, but he knew that he needed to get it together quickly. He needed to be sharp, especially since he had to make sure to keep his guard up around Michonne.

He trusted Carl's judgement, but he still needed to be cautious around her. While Rick appreciated the help she had given him and Carl, people usually wanted something in return for their kindness. And there was no doubt in his mind that she would want something, he just didn't know what. What would she gain by grouping up with a battered 40-year old man and a teenager? That was a big reason why Rick was so wary of her. He couldn't see how she would benefit from this situation.

Rick was broken out of his musings by the sound of laughter coming from below him. It was so sudden and foreign nowadays that it actually startled Rick a little bit. He stood up from the bed and walked down the steps, curious to see what brought the sound from his son's mouth. A sound that he wasn't sure he would ever hear again. Rick walked into the kitchen to see Carl and Michonne sitting at the table, eating cereal, smiling and talking. If Rick weren't so happy to see his son's joy, he would've been extremely confused as to how this stranger got Carl to laugh already. Something that he wasn't sure even he could do. He looked at Michonne and saw her blinding smile directed towards his son, and he was a little taken aback by the beauty of it. He hadn't paid much attention to how she looked earlier, but now he could easily see that she was an attractive woman. He walked closer to the table they were sitting at and could see they were sharing a comic book.

"Found yourself a comic book?" he asked, hoping to connect with his son over something he seemed to like. Rick knew his relationship with Carl was a little rocky, and he couldn't blame him. Rick was just happy that Carl didn't seem as mad as he was when they left the prison. His son was probably the only person he had left, and he was determined to make sure they would be okay no matter what happened.

"Michonne found it, actually. She gave it to me before we got here." Carl gave Michonne another smile and she returned it before turning her attention towards Rick.

"I used to read them when I was younger, and I figured he'd probably like it. I hope I didn't overstep-"

"No," Rick replied quickly. "It's fine. Can't be anything worse in those than what's goin' on out there," he said.

Carl slid an empty bowl and some cereal towards an empty seat for his father, and Rick gladly walked forward to occupy the chair. He poured some into his bowl and quickly began eating, only just realizing how famished he was.

"Maybe we can find you some toys or something next time," Michonne teased while looking at Carl. Rick raised his eyebrows a bit at the 'next time', but he didn't say anything.

"I'm too old to play with toys, Michonne," Carl said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "They're for kids and babies."

She chuckled at the boy and nodded. "Okay, but technically, you're still a kid. So, how old is too old?"

"It depends on what it is," Carl said after thinking for a moment and then smiled. "If it were a video game, then yeah, that's okay."

"So you wouldn't play with a… oh, I don't know. A teddy bear or something?"

"Of course not," Carl said, almost offended at the insinuation of him playing with a stuffed animal. "Even Judith didn't-" Carl stopped abruptly and the small smile that he had on his face turned into a grimace. Rick whipped his head towards his son, and saw Carl shut down in front of his face. Carl got up from his seat quickly and pushed his chair in before grabbing the comic book. "I've still got a few pages left," he mumbled before turning and leaving the kitchen.

Rick sighed as he watched Carl leave. He wanted to follow him so they could talk, but he knew it would be better to let Carl deal with his current emotions alone for now. He would speak to him after he had some time to cool off. Rick knew his son was just like him when it came to expressing feelings, and sometimes being alone helped more than talking.

"Who's Judith?" Michonne asked softly after the long stretch of silence following Carl's departure, slightly confused with the turn of events. She knew Carl didn't have a mother and that they lost their group, but he never mentioned any specific names.

Rick opened his mouth to speak before closing it again, not wanting to talk about that at all. He especially didn't want to talk about his possibly dead daughter with a woman he just met. He shook his head instead and stuffed more cereal into his mouth, not really tasting it.

Michonne understood that it was probably a sensitive topic, so she didn't push for any answers. It was obvious that the people they had lost meant a great deal to them, especially this Judith. Michonne was already making connections and guessing who Judith was to Rick and Carl, and the guess that she was coming up with made her heart hurt for them. She looked at Rick as he ate his cereal mechanically, his mind a million miles away from the small table they were sitting at.

"I know what it feels like, losing people," Michonne said, trying to let Rick know that she understood the grief he felt from losing people that they loved.

Rick nodded, wondering who and how many people she had lost. "Thanks," he paused for a moment. "And not only for what you just said, or this," Rick pointed to the bandages on his face. "I didn't think I would hear him laugh again. So thanks for that."

Michonne gave Rick a sad smile that made him look down at the empty bowl of cereal. Michonne and Rick sat at the table silently, until Michonne spoke up.

"So, what's the plan from here?" She was trying to get both her and Rick's mind away from the deaths they experienced in such a short amount of time.

"We need to find some more supplies before we go searchin' for anyone. I can go with Carl to look for some stuff and thangs, and you can keep watch here. Then we'll leave at dawn tomorrow." Rick looked up to see Michonne staring at him with an expression that clearly showed she didn't agree with that plan of action. "What?" he asked defensively.

"You need to heal. You're still walking around like an old man and you can't even take a deep breath. Stay here and get some rest, just one or two more days. Then we can leave."

As much as Rick wanted to argue with her, he knew she was right. He wouldn't be any help today, and he'd just slow Carl down. "One more day," Rick conceded.

"I can go find some supplies with Carl, you can rest and keep watch, and then we can be out of here tomorrow morning. If you need to find your people, then we shouldn't waste more time than necessary." Rick didn't like the idea, but it made the most sense.

"If anything happens to him-," Rick began.

"Nothing will happen to him. I already told you I'm not going to try anything. Besides, I'm sure Carl can handle himself if it came down to it."

Rick stared at her for a moment. "Why are you here?"

"What?" Michonne asked, not expecting him to ask that.

"You seem like you've done well for yourself so far. If you made it this long out there, then you've had to. I'm just curious why you're goin' out of your way to help us; help us find our people. Seems like you're doin' a lot without gettin' much in return."

Michonne sighed and looked down at her empty bowl. His line of questioning was reasonable, but she found herself hesitating to answer it. Maybe it was because it would force her to be a little vulnerable, something she didn't like doing much. Especially now. Being vulnerable always meant opening yourself up to someone, and once you let them in enough, you start to care. Caring is what scared her, it was scarier than those rotting corpses walking outside. She had many people in her life that she cared about at one time.

They were all dead now.

She raised her eyes and saw Rick watching her intently, the look in his eyes not giving away anything he was thinking. "I read this book before, ' _Salem's Lot_ … Stephen King wrote it." She paused and let out a long exhale. Rick didn't know where she was going with this, but he remained patient and attentive, interested in what she was going to say. "There was this quote that stuck with me even way before all of this happened. 'Alone. Yes, that's the key word, the most awful word in the English tongue. Murder doesn't hold a candle to it and hell is only a poor synonym'. That's why I'm here."

She didn't have to say any more than that. Rick remembered how he felt when he woke up from his coma, before he found Morgan. He didn't know how long Michonne had been by herself, but he remembered how being alone for that short amount of time was one of the worst feelings he ever experienced.

"Food, water, ammo. That's what we need. If you find anything else useful, take it. As much as you can get. I don't know how long we're gonna be out there, or where we'll be, so the more you can find, the better."

Michonne nodded, thankful for the change in their conversation. "I'll just wait until Carl is… ready to come down. Then we'll leave." Michonne gave Rick one last long glance and got up from her chair, grabbing her katana, and walked into the living room. Rick watched her go, thinking about the conversation they had. She was a mystery, but he felt like he was beginning to understand her a little bit better. He didn't have much to go on, but he was beginning to trust her, and it relieved some of his stress. There would be three capable people looking for his family, and that thought gave him a little more hope.

* * *

 **A/N:** I absolutely had to use that quote from Stephen King for Michonne. I love that book and that quote, so I'm happy that it fit so well. And I had to get Rick to say 'stuff and thangs' at least once, so there ya go! I loved that line 'he probably would've shot them for raising his suspicions and threatening his family' because it seems like something Rick would think lol! Anyway, I hope you guys liked this chapter. I'll try to post once more before my finals, but no promises. If I don't, then the next update will be around the second weekend of May. I want to have something up before then, but that's the latest you'll have to wait for the next update. Also, is anyone else having TWD withdrawals? I really hate having to wait until October. Sundays just aren't the same. xo


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** I'm a piece of shit. I honestly didn't expect this update to take so long, so I apologize for that. I've always been more of a short-story writer, so this is different for me. I've written two other Non-TWD fanfics (under different accounts that I don't even remember anymore) and this is my longest story, so please take it easy on me lol! I've also been cheating on this story a little bit, and I'm writing two other ones that I'm pretty excited about (both of which I'm trying to completely outline before I start posting because I learned my lesson from this story). One is fun and fluffy/smutty, and the other is a Non-Zombie AU. I've got another idea brewing in my head, too. This is my problem, people! I keep coming up with ideas while I'm writing other shit. Honestly it's getting on my nerves haha! Anyway, I'm gonna shut up now so you guys can read this chapter. Sorry for any errors; I wrote this well into the early morning hours and edited it while I was sleep-deprived. I still am. See ya at the bottom because I'll inevitably have more to say.

* * *

Rick made his way up to the second floor a little after his talk with Michonne. He stopped in front of Carl's door, let out a sigh, and then gave three sharp knocks. There was no reply, and he was about to reach for the knob when it swung open. Carl appraised his father for a second before turning around and sitting on the bed that was against the middle wall of the room. Rick walked in silently and closed the door behind him before sitting down next to his son, taking a moment to figure out what he was going to say. The two Grimes' sat there uncomfortably, one knowing that they needed to talk and the other hoping he wouldn't have to.

"How are you feeling?" Rick started, not knowing how else to begin the conversation. Carl just looked at his father as if the answer were obvious, and Rick knew it was. His son wasn't doing fine, but he was holding it together the best he could. Just like Rick was doing.

"Alright, maybe that wasn't the best question. Look, Carl, I know you're mad at me, but I feel like we need to talk about what happened before we got here."

"Judith could be dead," Carl said solemnly, cutting to the chase. "Everyone could be, and who knows if we'll ever find them."

"Judith is not dead, Carl," Rick said, trying to not only convince his son, but himself, too.

"You saw her car seat. It was covered in blood." Rick nodded. There was no denying the fact that the cards were against them, but they constantly found themselves in situations where that was the case, and they always managed to fight through it. Rick had gone through too much and fought too damned hard to keep his family together, and he wasn't planning on stopping now.

"We'll find her. We'll find her and we'll find everyone else."

Carl looked at his father, hearing the confidence in his voice. Carl knew that his father was a man of his word, and if he said he was going to do something, he would succeed or die trying. His dad didn't always make the right decisions, and people were killed because of them, but Carl was starting to realize that it wasn't his dad's fault. Reflecting on it, there were many instances where people would've gotten killed no matter what decision his father would have made. The new world was unforgiving, and Carl was starting to understand that nobody could perfectly navigate it.

"We'll find them," Carl agreed, feeling slightly more optimistic after hearing his dad's assurance. "And I'm not mad at you; well, not anymore." Rick felt the weight on his chest ease a little bit at his son's admission and gave Carl's shoulder a squeeze. "When are we going to leave?"

"Well, that's another thang I came up here to talk to you about. I wanna leave tomorrow, but we need more supplies, so you and Michonne are goin' to get as much as y'all can, and we'll head out around dawn. I still need a little more time to heal and rest, and I'd just be slowin' you down. You alright with that?"

"Yeah, I am." Carl paused before looking up at Rick. "Do you trust her?"

"Do you?" Rick asked while squinting his eyes, trying to read his son's body language for any doubts he may have had about Michonne.

"Yeah," Carl said, "I do."

"Then I trust her unless she gives me a reason not to. Now, I know you're more than capable, but if anything happens out there-"

"I know," Carl said, understanding what his father was alluding to. "I'll keep my gun drawn and loaded."

Rick gave his son a nod and a pat on the shoulder before standing up. "Okay, then. Let's get you two goin'." Rick stood up and Carl followed him after grabbing his sheriff's hat. They made their way out of the room and descended down the steps. Rick looked around to spot Michonne and found her sitting on the couch with a cloth in her hand and the sword he saw earlier in the other. He walked towards her, Carl trailing behind him, and watched as she carefully cleaned the blade. She inspected her work before flitting her eyes up to see them watching her. Carl had a look of intrigue and Rick's expression was unreadable.

Michonne's gaze focused to the younger Grimes and she stood up. "Ready to go, Sheriff?" Michonne asked as she took note of the hat resting on top of Carl's head.

His excitement of going out to do something important combined with Michonne's ability to make him feel like a friend produced the biggest smile she had seen from him so far. Rick couldn't even recall the last time he had seen a smile like that from Carl. "Yeah, I'm ready."

Michonne picked up some empty bags that she found lying around the house after her talk with Rick and walked to the front door. Rick handed Carl some bags and walked with him to the door. Rick looked at his son then switched his gaze to Michonne.

"It's almost one o'clock, so y'all have a lot of daylight left. Just make sure you're back before the sun sets."

"We'll be here before then," Michonne replied. She turned the knob and opened the door, and they both watched as Carl slipped out excitedly.

"Food, water, and ammo. Be back before sunset. Don't forget," Rick reiterated.

Michonne couldn't help the faint smile that graced her lips. She should have been annoyed, but she remembered what it was like to be a parent. The worry was never-ending. "I know, Rick," she said softly, looking intently into those piercing eyes of his. "And we'll be back, I promise."

The conviction in her voice gave Rick some relief and he nodded his head. Michonne left the house and walked side by side with Carl down the porch steps and onto the road. Rick watched them until they were out of his sight. He sighed before entering the house again and closing the door behind him. Rick stood there for a moment, silently hoping that everything would work out, before slightly struggling to push the couch against the door. He grabbed a bottle of water before ambling up the steps and retreating into the room he found earlier. Rick sat down on the bed and thought about the woman that appeared into his life out of absolutely nowhere. He wasn't completely comfortable with the thought of his son being alone with her, but he knew that his options were completely limited. They needed to leave as quickly as they could to find the others, and having her and Carl look for supplies so that they could depart in the morning was the best plan they had. He wouldn't be able to help or look for anyone if he didn't at least get a little more rest.

Rick got up and looked around the room before finding a book that peaked his interest a little. He got in the bed and checked the time on his watch. Only six minutes had passed since they left. Rick rolled his eyes at himself and opened the book. Sleep took over his worn body before he even got past the prologue.

* * *

Michonne and Carl walked silently along the road, both of them looking and listening for any potential threats. They hadn't found a lot in the several homes that they checked, but they managed to find a little bit of food and drinks. Carl was excited when they came across a bottle of Gatorade, and Michonne would be lying if she said she wasn't thrilled about the candy bar she found. It wasn't a Big Kat, but Michonne's sweet tooth would be satisfied.

They had been at it for a couple of hours now, and Michonne knew they'd have to find a store of some kind if they wanted to get more supplies. She didn't want to go back to Rick with only a couple days' worth of food. She managed to convince him that she'd be a big help to the two, and she was determined to prove that to him.

"We need to find a store or something. We'll have a better chance of finding more food; not just a can here or there," she told Carl as they walked in the fall heat of Georgia

"Wouldn't most of the stores be ransacked by now?"

"Yeah, there's a good chance of that, but people don't always go through the storage or manage to get everything that's in the store. We'll keep checking out whatever houses we come across, but make sure to keep an eye out for one." A walker made their way from behind a house and began to limp towards them. Michonne jogged up to it and cleanly sliced half of its head off. Carl looked on, impressed with her skill. He had seen her kill one for the first time in the second house they searched, and he thought seeing her use the katana was one of the coolest things he'd seen in a while. Every time she wielded that weapon, he found himself in awe of her skill.

Michonne made her way back to Carl and they resumed their trek.

Carl pointed to her weapon. "How long have you had that?" he asked curiously.

"Oh this old thing?" Michonne smiled. "I actually found it a little after everything started. It was mounted on a wall in a house I was searching, and I just took it."

"How'd you get so good with it?" he questioned.

"Well, firstly, thank you for the compliment." Carl jokingly rolled his eyes at that. "And I practiced a lot. When it's just you and those things," she pointed behind her, referring to the severed corpse, "you eventually get the hang of it. I was terrible with it at first. I like to think I'm pretty good with it now."

"You are."

"Thanks, kid."

After another hour of searching through a few homes and not coming up with much, Michonne and Carl finally saw what looked like a small general store in the distance. They walked carefully towards it, looking and listening for any presence- dead or alive- near them. After making sure the area around the place was clear, they both made their way inside and closed the door, bells chiming each time the door moved. They walked around and looked at the inventory while looking for any threats. There were still several shelves stocked with food, and the refrigerators still had drinks in them.

"Jackpot," Carl whispered, picking up a bag of hot Cheetos.

"Get as much food as you can into the bags." She started to walk away before she went back to Carl. He looked up at her questioningly. "Get a few treats, too." Carl nodded and let out a quiet snicker before getting to work.

Michonne walked to the front of the store and went behind the counter. She looked on the counter shelf and found a box of ammo and some keys. She opened the box and found that most of the ammo was in there. Michonne looked around for a gun, but didn't see one.

She took the keys and walked to the back of the store. A closed door came into her vision and she walked to it. Michonne let out a sigh before entering the key and unlocking the door. She got into stance with her katana before twisting the knob and slowly opening the door. She listened for any sound, but she could only hear Carl rummaging around the store.

Michonne cautiously walked in, prepared to attack, but she didn't have to. She was met with the sight of three bodies- a man, woman, and a young girl- and the gun she presumed the ammo was for lying next to the corpses. Her mouth formed a line at the sight, and she looked around the room for anything else she could use. She saw a desk and went through the drawers, managing to find a flashlight, some batteries, tape, and another first-aid kit. Michonne made her way back to the bodies and saw a picture on the ground next to them. She picked up the image smeared with blood that was now a dark red. It featured a happy looking family and she could see that these people were the bodies that were now dead lying by her feet.

Michonne put the picture back down and picked up the rifle. She would've chuckled at how stereotypical it was for the owners of a small store to own a rifle for protection if the sight in front of her weren't so grim.

"You could've at least tried to make it," Michonne whispered somberly, not only talking to the dead family in front of her.

Michonne continued to stare at the family until she heard a loud sound behind her. She jumped and turned around sharply with her katana ready to swing until she saw Carl standing in the doorway trying to pick up the can that he dropped.

"Shit, Carl! You scared the hell out of me!" Michonne's heart took a second to return to a normal rate.

"Sorry," Carl said sheepishly. "I finished filling the bags and I went looking for you."

"It's fine. And sorry about my language." Carl shook his head telling her it didn't matter. He looked around her at the bodies on the floor before walking in and standing next to Michonne.

"Did they kill themselves?"

"Don't know if everyone had a choice, but basically, yeah."

They looked at the bodies for a few moments before Michonne nudged him.

"Alright, let's get going. I told your dad I'd have you back before dawn, and I'm not breaking any promises. We've got quite the walk ahead of us with all of these bags." They both turned to leave but stopped short when they heard the chime of the bells on the front door and the voices of what sounded like a few men.

* * *

Rick watched his family around the table; Lori and Carl were seated next to Rick and laughing as they ate some of Lori's terrible pancakes. Rick smiled at the sight, before looking down at his watch.

"Well, it's time for me to go. Been busy at the department lately, so I'm goin' in today." Rick looked up and was met with his son's sad eyes underneath long hair and his sheriff's hat.

"Son?" Rick asked. Carl didn't say anything and continued to stare at his father. Rick furrowed his brows wondering what was wrong with his son before turning to his wife. Lori sat there, looking pale and skinny, her belly protruding harshly from her body. Rick felt his heart start to beat quickly and he could hear it in his hears.

"Lori? Lori, what's wrong?" Rick tried to get up, but he was rooted to his chair. Lori stared at him before letting out a piercing, bone-chilling scream. Rick flinched back, his body now breaking into a cold sweat. He heard the cry of a baby and looked down to see one in his arms. Judith was crying, and as hard as Rick tried, he couldn't console her. He looked up to Lori so she could help him, but he was met with nothing but an empty chair. Rick looked back to Judith, but his hands no longer held the baby. They were instead covered in blood.

Rick let out a pained moan, his throat not even working well enough to scream. He whipped his head in Carl's direction, trying to make sure his son was okay, but he remained seated, staring at his father the same way he had been a minute ago.

A loud sound broke Rick out of his dream and he sat up quickly, trying to gather himself. His body felt simultaneously hot and cold, and his heart was still beating quickly. Rick looked around and saw that the light in the room changed. The sun was going down. He grabbed his watch and saw that it was a few minutes after five. He knew that he told Michonne to be back before sunset, but they still had at least two hours before that happened. He listened for more sounds, and he could tell that something wasn't right. If Carl and Michonne were down there, Rick was positive they would be talking. Carl seemed to have taken a liking to her, and he could tell that they were quickly becoming friends. Rick got out of the bed and grabbed his gun, then made his way slowly towards the door. He rested his ear against the slab of wood and listened.

The footsteps that were making their way up the steps didn't sound like Carl or Michonne at all.

* * *

 **A/N:** Okay, I'm back! That dream Rick had creeped me out a little bit. I wrote it around 3:30 AM and my room was dark. I got super paranoid and turned on my lights haha! So who are Michonne and Carl dealing with, and who is in Rick's damn (temporary) house!? We'll find out next time, and I promise the next update won't take as long. Thanks for reading and reviewing and the follows/alerts. You guys don't know how amazing I think it is that people from all over are reading something that I'm writing. I really do get why people love doing this so much. Until next time! -Tay


	7. Chapter 7

Michonne quietly closed the door as quickly as she could, knowing that it wasn't visible from the front of the store. She locked it and inhaled slowly, trying to calm her nerves so she could figure out how to get out of this situation. She pressed her ear to the door and could only hear mumbling and the faint thuds of footsteps. Michonne looked behind her and observed Carl. He didn't seem too frightened, but she could tell he was slightly worried with their predicament. She looked around the room, but there wasn't much besides the desk, a chair, and the filing cabinet against the wall next to them.

"Carl, go stand on the side of that filing cabinet. They won't be able to see you from the door," Michonne whispered, still listening for the location of their footsteps. She didn't hear anything too close to the door so far.

"I'm not hiding," Carl hissed back, slightly offended that she would even suggest that.

Michonne sighed. "If they come in here, get on the side of that thing, and don't shoot unless I tell you to; the gunshot could alert the rest of them."

Carl wanted to roll his eyes, but he decided against it. He just gave her a curt nod instead, still not happy about her wanting him to hide. Michonne did roll her eyes at his attitude before pressing her ear to the door again. She tried to listen to what they were saying, but she could only make out a few words.

"Someone's… here… last time."

"… question… how… ago?"

"Search… anything… different… we've been…"

"I'm gonna check the room back here."

Michonne jerked back at the voice, not expecting it to be so close. She could hear shoes approach the piece of wood that divided them. Michonne stood to the left of the door, her katana raised and ready to strike. She gave Carl and pointed look and he did as she told him earlier, standing on the right side of the door, hidden by the filing cabinet.

The doorknob rattled and Michonne's fingers flexed around the handle of her blade.

"It's locked." The voice sounded like it belonged to a young man.

"No fuck it's locked," a gravelly voice replied. "Get the hell outta the way, lemme handle it."

Michonne watched the knob jiggle slightly as the stranger worked on getting it unlocked.

"Maybe we should just shoot the thing." The knob stopped jiggling.

"Ya doubtin' my skills or somethin', buddy?" The man with the gritty voice asked threateningly.

"N-no, I uh… I just thought it'd, ya know, be faster if we just uh, shot it."

"I said I'd handle it, didn't I?" Michonne didn't hear the other man reply. "Get the fuck outta here 'n help someone else. Don't know why the fuck yer here anyway. You ain't really the type we usually keep around. Yer lucky as all hell that yer friend out there acutally knows what the hell he's doin'. Lemme tell ya, if ya e'er ran into us by yerself, we woulda had yer crippled ass hangin' out on a tree as bait."

"Uhh, okay." She could hear the retreat of his footsteps, and the doorknob started rattling again. Then she heard a click a few moments later.

"There we go," the man chuckled. The knob twisted and the door slowly opened. Michonne saw his boot-clad foot step in first, and then his whole body. She didn't bother registering his features when he looked over at her, only making sure to put her blade through his skull so he wouldn't scream and alert his other friends. Michonne caught his heavy body to make sure it wouldn't make any sound. She dragged him away from the door and silently closed it. She kneeled next to the body and took the man's gun, knife, and lock pick. Michonne dug around his pockets and found an extra clip, a few more bullets, and a couple extra picks. She looked up and saw Carl staring at her with those inquisitive blue eyes. Michonne let out a sigh, knowing that he was seeing a woman who was wearing the blood of a man that she just killed.

"I'm sorry you had to see that."

Carl shrugged. "I've seen worse."

Michonne didn't really know what to say to that. She was equally relieved and heartbroken that a kid his age witnessed so many terrible things. "There's more of them, so we need to be careful. I doubt they're going to leave without their friend, so we need to get out of here before they come looking."

"Hey, Bobby! Everyone's down the street waiting on you. The kid said you were back here," a new voice called. Michonne and Carl made sure to stay silent. "Bobby? You back there, man?"

Michonne retook her position at the side of the door and Carl followed her lead, standing on the side of the filing cabinet to stay out of view. Michonne readied herself as the doorknob twisted. When the man opened the door and stepped into the room, Michonne sliced through the air, but it didn't make contact with him. He came into the room at an angle she wasn't expecting, and barely dodged the blade of her katana.

His brown eyes widened in alert before he tackled Michonne's body to the ground, gripping her arms with both hands. They continued to struggle for a few moments, Michonne trying to get his incredibly heavy weight off of her and him trying to keep her still. Frustrated, the stranger pulled out his gun intending to put an end to their struggle, but she slammed her forehead against his nose. His head to whipped back and the gun was let go as his hands covered his face. Blood streamed out of his nostrils at a fast pace, and she was sure that his nose was broken.

Michonne searched for her katana, but she couldn't reach it with him still straddling her. She reached for the knife that she took from the first guy's dead body and went to stab him with it. The stranger grabbed her arm, but Michonne managed to stick the blade of the knife into his side, causing him to yell out.

"You fucking bitch," he groaned before using one of his hands to wrap around her neck, constricting her airways, and the other to pull out the knife, a groan falling from his lips. Michonne brought her knee up sharply hoping to hit him in the balls, but he was positioned in a way that wouldn't allow her to hit them.

"Oh, no you don't," He chuckled darkly. The man glanced at the knife in his hand and threw it behind him. "I'm not even gonna bother stabbing you. I'll just sit here and choke you to death. It's more entertaining than watching you bleed ou-"

Michonne gulped in a deep breath, the pressure around her neck no longer there. The man's body was on top of her, his dead weight making it harder for her to get air into her lungs. She struggled to push him off until Carl helped drag him off of her. Michonne remained still, taking deep breaths for a few moments before moving to stand up. She felt lightheaded and stumbled a little bit, and Carl grabbed her elbow to keep her on her feet.

"Are you okay," he asked her, eyebrows furrowed in worry. Michonne took another breath.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for that," she said, pointing to the man. He was now sporting the knife he threw behind him in the back of his head.

"I wanted to help sooner, but I didn't want to alert anyone with the gunshots, and I didn't have a knife until he threw his. I was about to shoot when he threw it."

"It's okay, Carl. That was smart move; we don't know how many of them are out there." Michonne gathered herself and bent down to grab her katana and the man's gun. She checked his pockets, but he didn't have anything else on him. "Alright, get the bags. We need to leave now. They're going to notice two of their people are gone, if they haven't already." Carl nodded and got his bags, taking one from Michonne to lighten her load. He already felt bad for not being able to help her earlier. He was going to hit the man with the gun, but he didn't know if he was strong enough for it to have an effect.

Michonne could tell that Carl was mulling over what happened, and she sighed. "Carl." She waited until he looked up at her. "You made the right choice. I'm fine, and you're fine. That's the most important thing. And you saved me."

Carl smiled. "You would have found a way out of it."

Michonne smiled back at him before peeking outside of the room. "Alright, I don't hear or see anyone. Let's go." They both quietly crept out of the room and used the upright shelves as cover. When they made it to the front of the store, Michonne looked out of the windows to make sure no one was out there. She opened the door slowly, being careful not to disturb the wind chimes too much. Michonne peeked outside and didn't see anyone near. She could remember one of them saying people were down the road, but she didn't know in which direction or how far down. "Alright, come on. We'll go back through the woods." They left the store and ran straight for the woods, moving a little slower than normal from the weight of the bags. Once they were sufficiently covered by the trees and brush, both Michonne and Carl began walking. She looked up at the sky, and smiled a bit. If things went smoothly, they would be there before the sun set.

She'd be keeping her promise.

* * *

Rick hurried and moved to the side of the door, hearing the man's heavy footsteps make their way into the room next to him. Rick could hear him rummaging around and opening doors until he walked back out of the room and into the hallway.

"Lou, you find anything over there?" a voice that was laced with static asked.

"Yeah, there was a wet shirt downstairs. A woman's. Some food was out, too. I don't see anyone here yet, but if she's washin' her shirt and leavin' food here, then chances are she's comin' back," he replied into what Rick figured was a walkie-talkie.

"Oh shit, really? I can't wait-"

"Claimed." The voice on the other end responded with a static filled laugh.

"Yeah, alright motherfucker."

"You can have her when I'm done," the man, Lou, replied. Rick could hear the smile in his voice. The other voice chuckled back.

Rick was angry and disgusted. The fact that they were talking about raping a woman with such ease made his stomach turn, especially since he knew the woman they were talking about was Michonne.

"Well, I radioed in to tell you that two of ours died in that store. Don't know what the fuck happened, looked like someone killed 'em. Didn't like 'em much anyway."

"Who was it?"

"That bastard Bobby and Will."

"Will wasn't so bad. Did y'all see anyone over there?" Lou asked.

"Nah, but it looked like someone was here since the last time. Could've been who killed 'em."

Rick furrowed his brows in slight concern, wondering if that could've been Michonne and Carl. He felt a little bit of relief knowing that if it was them, they seemed to have gotten away. He couldn't help but feel a little anxious, though.

"We gonna do anything about it? They had people back at the camp that came with them."

"I figured they weren't that important to our core, so we'll let it be. No need to risk it."

"Alright. Well, I'm checkin' the rest of this place out, but I'm pretty sure it's all clear. Been lookin' 'round for a bit, now. We should be able to stay for the next few days. When're you assholes makin' your way over here?"

"We'll be there in, I don't know, two hours?"

"Fine by me. I can claim my bed first."

"Yeah, yeah. We'll radio back soon."

"I'll answer if I'm not sleepin'."

"Gotcha. Signing out." The static voice went away with a click.

Rick could hear the man shuffling before the doorknob turned. The door opened, blocking Rick's view of the man.

"Look at that fuckin' bed." He walked into the room, excited by the possibility of being able to sleep on an actual mattress. "Can't wait to get so-." His words were cut short by a blunt object hitting his head, and his body fell to the ground. Rick looked down at the man with a snarl on his face.

"Piece of shit." Rick put his knife through the man's skull and took his gun. He made his way to leave the room, but he stopped short and turned back around. Rick knelt next to the body, and then stood back up, shrugging on his new jacket.

Rick grabbed his stuff from the room, taking another white shirt and a brown shirt. He went down the steps, walked into the kitchen, and packed the food they left on the table into his bag before zipping it up. He checked the time on his watch and saw that it was 5:50. It still wasn't time for Michonne and Carl to be back, but he found himself getting anxious. He sat in a chair at the table and checked his watch again.

5:51.

Rick sighed and bounced his leg, stopping when he heard the door open. He remained still, listening for voices, and let out a sigh of relief when he heard them talking about something. _She kept her promise_ , Rick thought. He got up and walked out the kitchen. Rick saw Carl walk in with full bags and made his way to his son.

"How'd it go out there?" he asked, squeezing Carl's shoulder.

"It was fine. We ran into some trouble, but Michonne handled it." Carl's words caused Rick to look up at Michonne, and his eyes widened in alarm when he saw that she was covered in blood.

"You alright? Did you get hurt?" Rick asked.

"It's not my blood," Michonne said, surprised that he sounded concerned.

Rick nodded. "Some guy came in here, but I took care of it. He was talkin' to another guy on a walkie-talkie. They mentioned two of their friends died in a store. I take it that was you two?"

"Yeah, it was us. This one," Michonne walked up to Carl and ruffled his hair, "saved me back there. You got one hell of a kid."

Carl's cheeks turned a bit pink. "It was nothing."

Rick smiled at his son. "Good job, Carl." Carl nodded his head bashfully, feeling a little embarrassed by the praise. Rick looked back up at Michonne. "They're gonna be here soon, so we need to leave a little earlier than expected." He looked down at Carl. "Go pack whatever you need in the room you slept in. We gotta get goin' soon," Rick said.

Carl nodded and ran up the steps, disappearing from Rick and Michonne's view.

"Did you hear them say anything else while they were talking?" Michonne asked.

Rick sighed. He remembered a few things they said that he wish he could forget. "They have a camp, but they didn't say where. Planned on stayin' here for a few days, so it's probably not close. The rest of their group is coming back here."

Michonne nodded and crossed her arms. "Alright. Which direction do you want to head in when we leave?" she asked, but Rick wasn't paying attention to what she was saying. His eyes were fixed to her neck, and he walked closer to her, leaving a few inches between them. Michonne almost gasped at the suddenness of his proximity.

"Your neck is bruised," he said, inspecting the purple marks on her flesh. Michonne tried to tuck her chin into her chest to hide them, but Rick cupped her chin and lifted her head back up. "This the trouble Carl was talkin' about?" he asked, looking into her eyes.

"Yeah," Michonne said, not able to get much more out at the moment.

"What happened?"

"One of them walked into the room Carl and I were in, and I took care of him. I almost got the other one, but he managed to dodge it. We had a little… struggle, but Carl got him in time." Rick looked back down to her neck, knowing the struggle lead to her being choked. Rick touched her neck with a finger, and Michonne flinched.

"Sorry," Rick said, letting go of her.

"It's fine. Just a little sore," Michonne said, knowing that was half of the reason why she flinched.

"Thanks for takin' care of Carl out there. And gettin' all of this stuff," Rick said, pointing to the bags. "I know I was bein' a bit of an asshole when you first got here-"

"I get it," Michonne interrupted. "It's fine."

"It's not," he said, looking at her. "But thanks anyway." Michonne just nodded, locked in place from Rick's eyes. Carl's loud footsteps broke them out of their stare, and Rick shuffled a little, not knowing what just happened and feeling guilty as hell. He shook his head and looked at Carl.

"I finished packing everything," Carl said, carrying his bag with him.

"I'll be right back," Michonne said. "I need to get some of this blood off of me and get my shirt." Rick nodded and watched as she walked away. When he realized where his eyes decided to settle, he snapped his eyes away and they settled instead on the bags around them. Each one of them could take a couple bags without being weighed down.

"I think she might be one of us." Rick cut his eyes to his son.

"What?" he asked.

"She's one of us," Carl said with more confidence in his voice. Rick looked at his son and nodded.

"Yeah," Rick started, "I think she is, too."

* * *

 **A/N:** Hope you guys enjoyed the update! The next one will be up in a week or two. I'm hoping to start posting another story in a month or so. Thanks for reading this, and I hope to read your feedback! -Tay


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Hi everyone! I was going to hold off on posting this chapter because of Independence Day, but I figured I might as well post it. Besides, if any of you are like me, you'll probably want something to read while you're trying to get a little break away from the many people you'll be around lol! Also, it's about early October in this story. Only reason why I'm pointing this out is because the last half of season 4 seemed to take place in late autumn/early winter. The show and this story don't really correlate in terms of storyline/plot, but I just wanted to put that out there. See ya at the bottom!

* * *

Rick, Michonne, and Carl trudged their way through the woods, dodging branches and stepping over tree roots while keeping their eyes open for any threats. They had been walking for a little over an hour and hadn't come across any potential shelter or signs of their group. Rick looked up at the sky; the sun was descending and it wouldn't be too much longer until it was dark.

It had been quiet since they left the house; every now and then, Rick could hear Carl and Michonne murmuring about something, but conversation was slim. He had forgotten how unnerving it could be travelling through the woods, especially when they had no idea where they were going. He felt exposed from all sides, and every sound he could hear felt louder than it was. It made him think about the place he had only a few days ago. While the prison wasn't perfect, it provided shelter and protection. At the end of the day, he felt like he had somewhere to rest his head and keep his family safe. Being out in the open gave him the complete opposite feeling.

Rick felt a nudge to his side and looked at Michonne. She pointed to a group of walkers that were quickly closing in on them. "Take 'em out. No gunfire," he said.

They quickly fell into formation and began taking out the walkers one by one. Rick and Michonne were on both sides of Carl, making sure that he would only need to take out the walkers that made their way through the two adults, which were only a few. One by one, they sliced and stabbed the undead, but the noises were attracting more of them.

"There's too many of them," Michonne said, slicing off the heads of two walkers in one swing. Rick looked around and saw them getting closer. He stuck his knife through the head of a walker approaching him and searched for a safe spot for them to get away.

"This way," he said, pointing in the direction where no walkers were approaching. They quickly ran from the herd that was building up, still able to hear their insistent moans behind them. "Wait," Rick said quietly. He looked through the trees and saw a small clearing. There was a cabin in the middle of it, seemingly untouched and unoccupied. Michonne stood at his side, taking in the little structure and its dark windows. Rick looked over at her and she nodded, silently agreeing that they could use the cabin for shelter. "Alright, let's go." They hurried to the steps of the cabin and walked quietly up the stairs. Rick twisted the knob, finding it unlocked, before opening it and entering quietly. The room was dark and dusty, and the minimal rays of light peeking through the boards didn't really illuminate anything inside.

"Here," he heard Michonne whisper. He turned around and saw her extending a flashlight to him.

"Thanks," he said. He took the tool flashlight from her hands, brushing her fingers with his in the process. For once, he was grateful that the situation at hand was too urgent for him to be able to think about how he felt when their skin made contact. Rick turned then walked further into the cabin and an odor hit him like a brick wall. He had smelled some unpleasant things in his life, especially nowadays, but the odor that infiltrated his nostrils was sickening.

"What the hell is that?" Michonne whispered, her free hand covering her nose. Rick shrugged and walked further into the cabin, shining the light in all directions. He pointed the flashlight towards the floor, and he found what he assumed was the source of the stench. A dead dog was wrapped in a blanket, its bony corpse covered in matted and stained white fur. Rick walked a little closer to inspect the animal, but something else caught his eye. He looked to the left and saw a lump under the covers on a bed.

Rick let out a soft whistle to get Michonne's attention and shone the light to the bed. She reached behind her, prepared to withdraw the katana if she needed to. Rick walked quietly towards the bed and reached out slowly.

"Ahhh!" Rick quickly backed up and withdrew his knife as a screaming man popped up from out of the bed with a shotgun. The man pointed the gun at Rick and looked around, his eyes flitting as he took in the other two people in his home. "Who the hell are you!?" he yelled, causing Michonne to stiffen in irritation. She heard a small thump outside and knew she'd probably be hearing more.

"We don't mean any harm," Rick said calmly, holding his hands up.

"Get the hell out of my house," he screamed back, the gun shaking in his hands.

"Okay, okay. We will, but we can't right now," Rick said urgently. They could hear the thuds outside of the cabin increasing. Michonne turned towards the door when she heard a crack. One of the boards on the door broke, and she knew it was only a matter of time before the cabin would be filled with the undead.

"Now… NOW!" he yelled again.

"Shut him up," Michonne whispered to Rick, worried that the noise would attract more walkers and make it even more difficult for them to get out alive.

"Get out. Right now!"

"There are walkers outside!" Rick hissed.

The man looked around again, noticing that the noise was picking up, but too panicked to connect the words that Rick spoke and the banging that he was hearing. "I- I'll call the cops!"

"I am a cop," Rick replied disbelievingly. He wondered if this man even knew what was going on out there. "Now, I need you to lower the gun. Don't do anything rash," he said, lowering his body to the floor to put down his weapons. Michonne looked at the nozzle pointed directly at Rick's face and flexed her fingers around the handle of the katana.

Rick rose back up, hands now empty. "Everything's fine. Let's just take this nice and slow, okay?" Rick could see his eyes flitting back and forth between Carl and Michonne now. "Look at me," he said, creating more distance between his raised arms. The man looked at him for a moment before cocking the gun and pointing in Rick's face.

"Show me your badge!" he yelled.

"Alright, it's in my pocket. I'm just gonna reach down nice and slow." Rick lowered his hand towards his pocket and watched as the man's eyes followed the movement. A loud shot went off as Rick smacked the gun away from him and it fell to the floor. He grabbed the man and put him in a headlock.

"Let go of me! I-I'll kill you! Let go of me!" Rick covered his mouth to muffle all of the noise he was making. The banging and cracking was getting louder, and he knew that more walkers would probably be coming, if they hadn't already.

"Shut up!" Rick shouted before feeling a sharp pain on the palm of his hand. He yelled out and let go of the crazed stranger.

"Help me!" he screamed as he ran for the entrance of the cabin.

"Don't open that door!" Rick yelled.

He continued to run towards the door, still yelling 'help me', before his loud voice was cut off abruptly. Michonne had withdrawn her katana and pierced it through the man's chest as he ran past her. She pulled back and watched as his body slumped to the floor. All that could be heard was the still silence inside and the constant banging outside.

Rick looked at Michonne shocked, but she only stared back. "Um… thanks."

She shrugged in response. Rick glanced at Carl to make sure he was okay, but he was only staring at Michonne in what Rick was reluctant to describe as awe. He let out a sharp sigh, annoyed with the debacle that had just taken place, and walked to the rear entrance.

"The back door's clear. We're throwin' him out," Rick said while walking towards Michonne. "Carl, help us with the door." Carl nodded and took his position. Michonne sheathed her weapon and walked to the other side of the man's body, helping Rick lift him up. "Alright. One, two, three." The door opened and they forcefully pushed the body out, bringing down a few walkers with it. "Let's go."

They ran to the back of the house, out of the door, and past the occupied walkers. They could hear the sounds of the walkers tearing and eating the man's flesh as they snuck by. The squelches and the dull rips of body parts and skin being torn were sounds that they never wanted to hear again. The trio ran back through the woods and continued in the direction they were headed before the herd found them. They each took a second to catch their breath before continuing their journey.

* * *

"This spot will be fine for tonight," Rick said. The sun had gone down and the sky was quickly losing what little light remained. They had come across a relatively small area that was mostly hidden by trees, bushes, and tall grass. They all dropped their bags, happy to be relieved from their weight, and took a moment to indulge in the feeling of being able to stand still for a little bit.

The night air was cool, and Rick was happy that he had taken the jacket he was now wearing from the man he killed earlier. He glanced at Carl, making sure his jacket was on, before moving to Michonne. She was going through one of the bags, but Rick noticed she still had on her sleeveless vest.

"You got a jacket?" he asked her, eyebrows furrowed and head tilted.

She didn't respond right away, still going through the bag, before she pulled out her outerwear. "Got it," she smiled.

Rick nodded and looked around. "The temperature's probably gonna drop. Thinkin' I'll get a fire started."

"You don't think it'll attract anyone… or anything for that matter?"

"It's gonna be a small one. Just somethin' to keep us warm and heat up this food. It most likely won't last all night, anyway."

Michonne nodded and saw Rick beginning to search the ground for materials. She was about to offer to help when Carl spoke up.

"Can I help, dad?" Rick looked up, feeling happy about his son wanting to do something like build a fire with him. It was something Rick could see them doing when the world was normal, and he was glad that not everything had to die just because the world was dying.

"Yeah, you can help. Grab some sticks, leaves, and grass. Make sure it's all dry."

Michonne watched as they worked to build the fire, observing how well they worked together and their easy exchanges. Even though she wanted to help, she also didn't want to disrupt their father-son bonding. She listened as Rick gave Carl instructions on how to build the fire and start it. Not too long after Rick and Carl started, they were all gathered around the small source of light and heat, warming up their cans of food and their bodies simultaneously.

"I can keep watch tonight so you can get more rest," Michonne said after they ate their small meals.

He tipped his head in appreciation. "We can split it. I'll take the first watch; I have a feelin' I won't be able to fall sleep just yet."

Rick was right. A few hours later, he still felt wide awake. He looked at Carl and Michonne and they both still appeared to be asleep, so he moved quietly to the fire and sat down. He looked around, but the light from the dwindling fire and the illumination of the moon only provided enough light for him to see only within several feet of him. Keeping watch wouldn't be very easy, but besides the crackling flames and insects, the night was quiet. He'd be able to hear anyone approaching them.

Rick heard a sharp gasp and reached for his gun before he realized the sound had come from Michonne. She was leaning back on her elbows and breathing heavily.

"Hey," Rick called out quietly.

Michonne's eyes darted to his and she took another deep breath before shaking her head. He watched as she grabbed her water and stood up before making her way to him.

"You can go to sleep, now. I'll take my shift." Rick looked up at her and shook his head.

"I'm not even tired."

"You need your rest Rick," she admonished lightly. He shrugged and threw an errant stick on the ground into the fire. She let out a little sigh before lowering herself to the ground and sitting next to him, taking a sip of water from her bottle. They didn't talk for a bit until Rick cleared his throat.

"Nightmare?" he asked, curious as to why she woke up so abruptly.

"Isn't this whole world a nightmare?" she asked with a dry chuckle. He gave her a wry smile before looking away. There was another silent stretch before she sighed. "Yeah, it was a nightmare."

"Wanna talk about it?" he asked uncomfortably, not really knowing what else to say.

She let out a quiet, genuine laugh. Rick almost gave himself whiplash as he turned to look at her. He heard the way her laughed sounded, but it was only caused by Carl. It was the first time she had laughed directly to him, and he found himself enjoying the fact that the sound was caused by him immensely.

"You don't seem like the type to discuss dreams and the meanings behind them," she teased.

"I'm not," he said with a bashful grin, looking back to the flicker of the flames.

"Sleeping in the woods isn't something I particularly enjoy. I feel too exposed," she admitted after a moment.

"You never went camping?"

"No," Michonne grimaced. "I never understood the appeal."

"Were you a city girl?" Rick asked, already knowing the answer.

"Born and raised in Atlanta," she affirmed. "You?"

"King County. Was there my whole life before this happened. I was the town Sheriff."

"I can see it. You being a Sheriff," she said, looking at him. "I was a lawyer."

"I can see it," he said, repeating her words. "Seems like a lifetime ago."

"And like it was only yesterday." He nodded, completely understanding what she meant. He glanced over at her as she threw a stick in the fire and admired the way her skin seemed to glow from the light the flames provided. Her features seemed like they were highlighted even more at the moment, and he had to look away before he was caught staring for too long. He found himself wondering what she had been through since the outbreak started, how it had changed her, who she was before it happened.

"You should get some sleep, Rick," Michonne said again. Rick was about to argue when a yawn escaped his mouth. She raised her eyebrows at him.

"Yeah, alright." He let out a soft chuckle and stood up before walking away.

"Goodnight, Rick," Michonne called out quietly as she followed him with her eyes.

"Goodnight, Michonne."

* * *

A/N: I hope you guys liked how I included the cabin scene here. I had such a hard time writing certain parts of this chapter, but I was determined to sit down and finish it so I could get it out to you guys. Next chapter should be fun! I'm excited to read your reviews. I didn't reply to any of the last ones, but I read them all and I really do appreciate each one. I'm sure many of the writers on here will tell you, but something about having that feedback and communicating with the people who read the story is such a boost. Thanks for reading and enjoy the Fourth of July! Stay safe, eat well, have fun, and enjoy the fireworks! –Tay


	9. Chapter 9

Rick sat with his back to the broken down vehicle they slept in for the night. Blood was caked on his face, neck, and hands, but he could barely feel it. He could feel, however, the emotions running through him. His thoughts were louder than they had ever been. Rick could hear a voice calling to him, but he was in his head.

" _We've been here two months. You've made it work. The war is over, Rick,"_ he recalled Hershel saying, the memories of the old man's wise words finding their way into Rick's thoughts.

" _No," Rick drawled, "we don't know that."_

" _I'm talkin' about you."_

The war within Rick was far from over, though. He was warring with himself more than ever now, trying to figure out who he was, who he became, and wondering if he had always been that way. That brutal. That ruthless. He remembered what it felt like biting through Joe's skin and into his throat, blood spraying onto his face. The feeling of killing the man that tried to make him watch as his son was being violated. He remembered the look of absolute fear on the face of the man who had Carl. The way it felt to gut him like the pig he was. Hearing the knife stab into his body over and over and over again as warm, sticky blood coated his hand. Hearing his gasps and groans of pain every time the knife entered his flesh.

He remembered enjoying it.

" _I still think there's a plan. I still believe there's a reason. Life was always a test, Rick."_ Rick didn't know what kind of sick plan this was, or the mastermind who was behind it. He wasn't sure if he had passed the test, or failed it, but then he thought of his son. Carl was still alive, and for the most part, unharmed. Rick managed to protect all of them. He wasn't sure if being that vicious, that brutal, was part of the test, but he saved his son's life. Michonne's life. Daryl's life. His life. If that wasn't passing, then Rick was glad to have failed.

"Rick," he heard a voice say before feeling a pressure on his shoulder. He gazed at the slender hand that rested there and looked up, into Michonne's dark, concerned eyes.

" _Things break, but they can still grow,"_ Hershel's voice said. _"These little bristles, they'll take root, and we'll have a whole new plant."_

* * *

 _ **Earlier**_ _:_

Michonne let out a stifled yawn as she looked around their campsite for any threats. The sun had already risen, allowing her to see their surroundings much better than she could when it was dark. The fire had gone out about thirty minutes into her shift, so she was stuck listening for any strange sounds while trying to ignore the cool temperature for hours. Michonne tipped her head back and closed her eyes briefly, relishing in the feeling of the sun's rays now warming her skin. Her shift had been very uneventful, which, unfortunately, gave her the time to think about the memories of her life before she met Rick and Carl. As much as she tried to ignore the thoughts, they kept popping into her head.

She thought about her life before the apocalypse, a time where she was happy and content. Excited about what the future could bring. Then her life when it all started. When she was scared, but also optimistic that the hell they were living in wouldn't last too long. That there would be some kind of cure. She rolled her eyes at how naïve that Michonne was. And then she thought about her life into the apocalypse. The lives that were taken away from her. The pain and heartbreak she had experienced. Still experiencing. She didn't think it would ever go away, no matter how much time had passed. One could only hope.

A small rustling sound interrupted her thoughts and she opened her eyes. Carl sat up and rubbed at his face before looking at his sleeping father and then to her. Michonne got his attention and waved him over, happy to have a distraction. Carl grabbed his bag and carelessly dragged it next to her before sitting down on the dirt and grass. He pulled out the bag of cereal and stuffed his hand in it, tossing the food into his mouth. After he ate his handful, he gave Michonne a smile.

"Good morning," she smiled lightly, and motioned to a crumb resting by his mouth. Carl wiped it off quickly and bashfully grinned at her.

"Hey," he replied. Carl chewed on some more cereal before letting out a quiet sigh. "I wish I had some more pudding.

"You would've if you hadn't eaten it all in two days," Michonne snickered.

"You had some, too."

"A small bowl," she countered. "And I thought I was the one with the sweet tooth."

"I saw you sneak a candy bar while we were walking here," he said, raising a brow at her. Michonne laughed quietly and held her hands up in surrender.

"Okay, maybe my sweet tooth is worse." Carl nodded in agreement. They shared a moment in silence before Carl spoke up.

"Think we'll find anyone today?" he asked. Michonne looked at his face, trying to gauge where he was going with his question, but his expression remained neutral.

"Maybe," she finally replied, shrugging one of her shoulders. "You said the prison burnt down a few days ago, right?" Carl took a moment to think about it, then nodded.

"Yeah, three or four. The days kind of blend together."

"Well, that's not too long ago. And I'm almost sure that most of the people in your group would try to stay relatively close to the prison. So, it's definitely possible we'll run into someone." She could see that Carl wasn't completely convinced, and she felt the need to reassure him. "Hopefully we'll find them, and if not, then maybe we'll run into some good people for a change," she said, the last part coming out dryly. She wasn't sure what it was about this world that made so many people become complete assholes with no regard for human life. Then again, the world was like that before they had to worry about walkers. Michonne was about to shake her head at the thought, but slightly jumped from being startled by a sudden sound.

Rick was sitting up now, his breath coming out in harsh, quick puffs. He searched his surroundings wildly before his eyes landed on Carl and Michonne. He took a few more breaths and cleared his throat.

"Are you okay, dad?" Carl asked, worried about his father's fairly fragile condition.

"Yeah," he said, sitting up fully and leaning against the tree behind him. "Just… hurt my rib when I woke up." Michonne could tell that he was lying as soon as their eyes connected. She imagined that her expression was similar whenever she would have one of her own terrifyingly real nightmares. Haunted, crazed, desperate. Rick looked away from her immediately, feeling as if she could read his mind.

"Okay," Carl replied, but he didn't look like he believed his father, either.

"How'd your shift go?" Rick asked Michonne, trying to get the attention off of his abrupt awakening.

"Well, we're still alive, so I think it went okay." Both Rick and Carl cracked a smile at her strange humor, and they were grateful that she was able to somewhat dissipate the awkward tension.

"Yeah, I'd say so." Rick stood up and stretched his body, making Michonne quickly look down at the ground when his shirt rode up his torso. She felt her cheeks warm up a bit, but she didn't let herself think of the reaction or what she had just seen at all. Michonne was so focused on clearing her mind that she didn't realize Rick was trying to get her attention until she could feel his presence closer than it was before.

"Hey." Michonne looked up from where she sat and saw Rick peering down at her curiously.

"Sorry, I was just... thinking. Did you say something?" she asked, hoping that he couldn't tell she was slightly flustered.

"Yeah. I was just sayin' thanks for keepin' watch. The extra rest helped."

"It's no problem. Just be prepared to take a couple extra hours tonight because I don't feel half as bad for you as I did yesterday." Rick chuckled a bit, and Michonne gave him a small smile. Rick stared at her for a moment, hooking Michonne in with his intense blue eyes, until he ripped them away and looked into the sky.

"We should probably get goin'," he said, scratching the back of his head. Michonne nodded and grabbed her stuff, deciding to ignore whatever that was. Maybe she was the one that needed the extra sleep.

* * *

"We still have enough water for four or five days until we need to search for more," Rick said. When there was no answer, he looked behind him and saw Michonne and Carl goofing around. They were walking along some train tracks they had found shortly after they left their temporary campsite. Rick knew that if their group had come across these tracks, then they most likely followed them. Rick chuckled and walked towards them. "What're you two doin'?" he asked, watching as they tried their best to remain balanced on the tracks.

"I'm winning a bet," Carl said, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. He stumbled a bit, but regained his composure.

"Yeah, right," Michonne teased. "You're going down, kid."

"Well, uh… you think we can speed this up?" he asked distractedly, as his eyes were fixed on the way Michonne's long, shapely legs moved gracefully along the tracks.

"Yeah, you're right." Michonne took a few more steps, then yelled out. "Carl!" She surprised all of them, but her strategy didn't have the desired effect. Michonne lost her balance, and landed on the gravel. Rick couldn't help but chuckle at the obvious displeasure when she saw that trying to startle Carl didn't work. She was obviously competitive.

"I win," Carl bragged, a cocky smile gracing his face. He extended his arm and held out his hand with his eyebrows raised. Michonne narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips.

"Fine," she conceded. She reached into her bag and pulled out two candy bars, trying to cover one so that Carl would try to pick the other.

"Is that really the last Big Cat?" he asked, peering up at Michonne. She nodded and Carl looked back down, mulling over his options. His hand hovered over the two candy bars and stopped above the Big Cat.

"Oh, come on," Michonne protested. Carl snickered and grabbed the candy from her.

"You said winner's choice," he gloated. Rick smiled at the display, their friendship making him feel unexpectedly lighter on the inside. Carl ripped open the wrapper and broke half the bar in half, offering one piece to Michonne.

"It's okay. You won it fair and square," she said, declining the candy even though she really did want it.

"Come on," Carl goaded. "We shared the chocolate pudding, why not this?"

"Fork it over," Michonne smiled, and took her half of the Big Cat.

"That's all settled now?" Both Michonne and Carl nodded, too busy with their treat to respond to Rick. He chuckled and readjusted the bag on his shoulder before continuing down the tracks, Carl and Michonne now following closely behind him.

"I was sayin' before, we should have enough water for a bit 'til we need to search for more." Michonne didn't respond right away, and Rick looked towards her, noticing that she looked contemplative. "What?" he asked, curious to know what she wasn't verbalizing.

"It's just… what exactly are we looking for?" Rick sighed and shook his head. He had no clue what the hell they were looking for. All he knew was something about going this way felt right. Rick may have fucked a few things up in his lifetime, but his instincts rarely lead him astray, and he wasn't going to doubt them this time.

"I have no idea," he said honestly. "I'm hopin' we'll figure it out along the way." Michonne nodded, but remained quiet, which made Rick slightly anxious. Was she having doubts about going along with them now? Did she think he didn't know what he was doing? Rick didn't know why it mattered so much since they only met two days ago, but he found himself… caring about what Michonne thought. Even though their meeting was harsh –mostly on his end- they seemed to have developed a quick bond through Carl, trust, and some strange connection. It baffled him a bit, but he wasn't going to question it. He didn't have the luxury of time to sort through his thoughts right now.

"Hey, look." Rick looked to where Michonne was pointing and noticed a banner. "Maybe something like that?" They approached the sign and stood in silence for a few moments as they read the words:

 _SANCTUARY FOR ALL COMMUNITY FOR ALL_

 _THOSE WHO ARRIVE SURVIVE._

Rick studied the map, looking at the star that marked the location. **Terminus**. He glanced up at Michonne and they shared a look, both knowing that this was what he was looking for. What they were looking for. "Yeah," Rick finally affirmed with a nod of his head. "Something like this."

"Alright," Michonne said, "let's go."

* * *

Rick and Michonne sat on a log next to the small fire he had once again set up for the night. Carl was asleep in an old, broken down car that was obviously abandoned at their makeshift campsite on the side of a dirt road. They walked for the whole day, only taking short breaks when their legs were feeling like lead. Thankfully, the weather had remained cool, and the sun wasn't beaming down on them as it usually did.

"Want some?" Rick turned to Michonne and saw that she was offering him some of the beef jerky that she found at the store she and Carl raided.

"Yeah, thanks." Rick reached in and grabbed a piece, biting a chunk of it off and chewing slowly. "I miss steak. It was my favorite thing to eat," he stated, savoring and appreciating the flavors in his mouth. Michonne snickered at the random tidbit of information, bringing Rick's attention to her face and the brightness of her smile. He stared at her for a few more seconds before realizing that he wanted to know more about this mysterious woman. "What about you?" he asked.

"Seafood," she replied quickly. "Lobster, sushi, shrimp, scallops, clams, salmon. All of it." Michonne glanced at Rick and grinned at the look on his face. "What's wrong with seafood?" she questioned, enjoying the way Rick's face scrunched up in disgust.

"Nothin' wrong with seafood, but you'd have to make me a rich man to eat some damned sushi."

"Don't knock it til' you try it."

"Oh, I did try it. And I almost threw up." Michonne covered her mouth with her hand to muffle the sound of her chuckles. Rick's smile grew at her amusement, and he was eager to keep it going. "Probably shouldn't have eaten it at a buffet next to a gas station, but this new place opened up and Lori wanted to…" Rick trailed off, realizing that he mentioned his dead wife to Michonne. "She really wanted to go," he finished, clearing his throat in slight discomfort.

"Lori was your wife?" Michonne stated more than asked, gesturing to his silver ring.

"Yeah." Rick twisted the ring on his finger a few times before continuing. "She died after this all started. Back at the prison." He considered telling her more, but the wounds from not knowing if Judith was still alive were all too fresh in his mind.

"I'm sorry," Michonne apologized. Rick nodded and they stared into the fire for a few silent moments. "I had a boyfriend," she said, divulging some of her past to Rick. "We were in a refugee camp and it got overrun. He got high and…" Michonne let out a long sigh and shook her head. Rick could tell that she was remembering whatever it was that happened to him. "Suffice to say, I don't have a boyfriend anymore."

"Strange way to let someone know you're single," Rick joked. He was worried it was an insensitive thing to say immediately after it left his mouth, but he was relieved when Michonne snickered at the bad joke.

"Forget the gun to my head before I could even wake up. You're an asshole for that," she teased lightly, relishing in the easy flow of their conversation. She hadn't had a pleasant conversation with an adult in so long, and she was more than grateful for it. Her conversations with Andrea were nice, but they always held a certain sadness and seriousness to them, as Michonne was always trying to keep Andrea from knowing too much, while Andrea always talked about life before the apocalypse, Amy, and a man they met named Dale. The thought of her friend brought an ache to Michonne's chest, but she held it in like always and put it to the back of her mind.

"Maybe this place will have some real food," Rick said, redirecting the topic of their talk and regaining Michonne's attention. "They have to be strong if they're takin' people in. Chances are they've got some kind of farms goin'. Some sort of system." Rick stamped out the small fire, their surroundings going dark, just the light from the moon shining from above.

"I wonder if the whole thing's legit," Michonne pondered aloud. Rick was about to reply, but the sound of rustling leaves and twigs in the woods had them on immediate alert.

Michonne grasped her katana and looked behind her. Rick stood up slowly, his hand ready to draw his weapon, and surveyed the tree line. Everything but the crickets were dead silent. After a few tense moments, Rick sat down on the log again and Michonne turned back around.

"My group let people in back at the prison," Rick offered, trying to ease both of their minds.

"These people could be different. It could be some kind of trap."

"Yeah," Rick responded, nodding his head. "It's always the same, isn't it? Don't get to know until we know. Maybe this place isn't even there anymore."

Cold steel being pressed into Rick's temple stopped their conversation short.

"Oh, dearie me! You fucked up, asshole." Michonne turned quickly to retrieve her katana, but she was stopped by a man kicking it away from her, pointing a gun directly at her head. "You hear me? You fucked up." Rick recognized the voice as soon as the man started talking. The asshole on the other end of the walkie-talkie. "Today is the day of reckoning, sir. Restitution!" he exclaimed. "A balancing of the whole goddamn universe."

Rick's body was tense as he sat there, anger and worry coursing through his body, while a few men came out of the woods, weapons drawn and pointing at them.

"Shit, and I was thinking of turnin' in for the night on New Year's Eve," he laughed, delighted that he had come across Rick. Michonne looked at him, her eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion, wondering if these were the guys Rick mentioned. "Now who's gonna count down the ball dropper with me, huh? 10 Mississippi, 9 Mississippi, 8 Mississippi-"

"Joe!" A voice called out. Rick breathed in as he watched Daryl approach the group from behind the car. Daryl looked at Rick before glancing at Michonne, and she stared back. She immediately noticed the familiar glance between Rick and Daryl, and she was praying that he was part of his old group. "Hold up."

"You're stoppin' me on eight, Daryl," Joe announced, slight annoyance tinging his voice.

"Just hold up," Daryl requested, walking closer to them.

"This is the guy that killed Lou, so we got nothin' to talk about," another man in their group said. "The son of a bitch is even wearin' his coat."

"Oh, no," Joe disputed. "You see, the thing about nowadays is we got nothing but time. Say your piece, Daryl."

"These people," Daryl began, motioning to them, "you're gonna let 'em go. These are good people." Daryl cast another quick glance at Michonne, but looked back up a Joe.

"Now I think Lou would disagree with you on that. I'll of course have to speak for him and all 'cause your friend here killed him when he was just tryin' to sleep on a nice bed."

"You want blood. I get it." Daryl dropped his crossbow to the ground and held out his arms to the side. "Take it from me, man. Come on." Joe stared at Daryl incredulously.

"This man killed our friend," he said slowly. "You say he's good people. See, now that right there is a lie." Daryl dropped his arms slowly. "It's a damn lie!" Joe yelled.

One of the men thrust the butt of his gun forcefully into Daryl's stomach, causing him to hunch over from the impact.

"No!" Rick yelled. He could only look on as they dragged his friend away and began throwing fists at Daryl's body.

"Teach him fellas," Joe called. "Teach him all the way." Rick heard the creak of the car door open over Daryl's grunts of pain and watched as another guy gripped Carl, taking him out of the car.

"You leave him be!" Rick bellowed, rising to get up, but was grabbed by Joe and forced back down. The man held Carl's body close to his, a knife at the skin of his neck. Carl's face was etched with fear, his cries of distress thundering in Rick's ears.

Michonne looked around, her brain scurrying to find a way to get them all out of this. The man pointing the gun at her noticed her distress.

"You'll get yours," he hissed sinisterly. "You just wait your turn."

"Listen, it was me. It was just me!" Rick said, emotion breaking his voice as he tried to negotiate with this man.

"See, now that's right! That's not some damn lie!" Joe bent his body down towards Rick. "Look, we can settle this. We're reasonable men. First, we're gonna beat Daryl to death. Then we'll have the girl. Then the boy," he breathed out. "Then, I'm gonna shoot you and _then_ we'll be square," Joe laughed.

The man who had Carl threw him down to the ground and climbed on top of his body. Rick looked on, a serious, burning fury rising inside of his chest.

"Let him go," he warned, his body shaking from the anger building within him. Carl was struggling to get the man's weight off of him, tortured moans leaving his mouth. "Let him go," Rick said again, the emotions inside of him threatening to burst free. The sound of Carl's yells, the grunts and blows from the men beating up Daryl, and Joe's laughter in Rick's ear all combined to pull the tension inside of him too tight, and he snapped.

His head rammed back into Joe's face and a gunshot went off right beside his head. Rick could hear nothing but the loud ringing in his ears, disorienting him. He rose up to his feet slowly and turned towards Joe, throwing a hard punch to the man's jaw. He didn't react quickly enough to the punch that Joe delivered, and was knocked off balance, his body hitting the ground.

"I got him," Joe called out, pissed with the turns of events. "Oh, it's gonna be _so_ much worse now!" He kicked his foot into Rick's midsection, hitting his already bruised ribs and knocking the wind out of him.

Michonne looked on helplessly, not knowing what to do. Rick still hadn't finished healing, and now he was on the ground being kicked. Daryl, the guy she had hoped would be able to save them, was now in the process of getting beat up to death. And Carl. She could feel her heart beat rapidly as the man terrorizing him tried to keep Carl's body from squirming so he could violate the boy in the worst way possible. Michonne slapped the man's hand away from her, causing him to pull the trigger. The bullet went off to the side, and he delivered a hard slap to her face. She fell back down to the ground, the flesh of her cheek burning and stinging, and the man retrained his gun on her.

"Come on, get up!" Joe yelled. Rick got to his knees, but the pain in his midsection had him falling back down. "Come on. Let's see whatcha got." Rick saw Carl's attacker flip his son onto his stomach before he began messing with the belt buckle on his pants, trying to free himself so he could have his way with Carl.

"Leave him be!" Rick yelled as he got up unsteadily, and charged towards Joe. Joe grabbed him in a bear hug, clamping Rick's arms down to his side so he could barely move.

"The hell you gonna do now, sport?" he antagonized. Not even a second later, Joe felt an extreme pain at his throat and let out a scream. Rick sank his teeth into the man's neck, viciously clamping down, and the metallic tang of blood coated his tongue. He pulled back with the Joe's flesh in his mouth, the man's blood spraying in all directions as he gurgled while falling to the ground. Rick violently spit out the flesh and looked down at Joe, watching the life leave his body.

Everyone was quiet now, shocked and afraid at what they had just witnessed. Michonne used the distraction to her advantage and turned the gun on the man who slapped her, shooting him in the head. His body hit the floor with a thud. Daryl punched one of the guys beating him up and Michonne shot the other, before turning the gun to the pedophilic rapist.

"I'll kill him!" the man screamed, picking Carl back up and positioning his knife back at the boy's throat. "I'll- I'll kill him!" he warned, distress and fear filling his voice.

"Let the boy go!" Michonne urged, her gun fixed steadily on the coward.

Rick grabbed Joe's knife and got up slowly. "He's mine," he said dangerously. Rick walked towards him and the man let Carl go, fear clearly etched on his rotund face.

"Stay back," he said unsteadily, holding his arms out, knife still grasped in his right hand. Rick didn't slow his gait, though. "Please," the man begged right as Rick reached him, but there was no going back. There was no forgiveness, no surrender, no mercy at this point. Rick grabbed the repulsive man's collar and stabbed him in the stomach, watching as blood left his mouth. He grabbed his throat and forced the knife up, the screams and squeals like music to Rick's ears. He brought the knife up again, causing a series of pained gasps to leave the pig's mouth, before he dropped to his knees. Rick looked down into his eyes before pulling the knife out and stabbing him again, the sound of flesh and blood being cut into filling the dark atmosphere. He stabbed the man again and again, looking into his suffering and dimming eyes, getting an immense pleasure out of it. Out of killing the man that had tried to rape Carl. Killing the man that was with the rest of those assholes who wanted to rape Michonne. Killing the man that would have been pleased to watch Rick, Carl, Michonne, and Daryl lose their lives.

Michonne watched on as she hugged Carl close to her body, trying to console and comfort him, not caring at all that this poor excuse of a man was losing his life. That any of those men lost their lives. They deserved it.

* * *

"Rick," Michonne called quietly, but he didn't respond. It was morning now, the sun bright and cheery in the sky as if the events that had taken place the night before never happened. But the pools of blood staining the concrete and the darkness that cloaked them confirmed that it did indeed happen. Rick didn't even bother sleeping in the car, and she wasn't even sure if he slept at all. Carl didn't say anything, either. He just lay there in her lap, drifting in and out of a restless sleep. Daryl got rid of the bodies and kept watch for the night, as Rick was in no frame of mind to do so, and Michonne felt as though she needed to be there for Carl.

"Rick," she said again, this time laying her hand gently on his shoulder trying to grab his attention. He looked up at her through his stormy, blue eyes, and Michonne sighed on the inside. She hadn't known Rick for long, but she could tell he was troubled by what happened the night before.

"How's Carl?" he asked, his voice gravelly and tired. Michonne sat on the ground next to Rick and leaned her back against the car.

"He's… he's sleeping right now. I'm not sure how he is, honestly. He didn't say anything about what happened." He nodded before silently staring at the ground, and Michonne followed his lead. She knew he was trying to figure out something to say, and she would give him the time to think.

"I'm sorry," Rick said after a several moments, taking Michonne by surprise. Those were the last words she thought he would be saying.

"For what?" Rick threw her a brief sideways glance before looking back down.

"I'm sorry you had to see that… last night. That was…" Rick gave his head a slight shake and rubbed his beard. "I went too far." Michonne stared at him in bewilderment for a few moments debating how much she could say to him.

"Rick," she said, waiting until he looked at her to continue, "don't be sorry." She could see he was about to protest, but she quickly spoke before he could. "You saved our lives back there. Me, Daryl, and most importantly, Carl. Those people weren't going to spare us. They were going to beat Daryl to death, rape me and Carl, and then kill all of us. You didn't go too far. You did what needed to be done to protect us. To protect your son. And I'm guessing that's why he's still alive and well. Because he has a father who's willing to do anything to make sure he's okay. There would be more children on this earth right now if there were more people like you. Never be sorry for that." She spoke with such conviction and compassion that Rick was rendered speechless. The understanding, acceptance, and respect that shone through her eyes made his heart thump in his chest. He could do nothing but nod, taking her words in and trying to accept them.

Michonne's gaze crept past Rick to see Daryl trudge his way over to them. He carried a bottle and a piece of cloth in his hands and extended them towards Rick as he reached the two adults.

"You should clean yourself up," Daryl said gruffly.

"No, it's fine. We should save it." Rick dismissed.

"You can't see yourself. He can," he pointed out, gesturing to Carl in the car with a jerk of his chin. Rick sighed and took the items, pouring a bit of water onto the cloth before wiping the dry remnants of blood on his face.

"I'm gonna check on Carl. Make sure he's okay," Michonne said, standing up and turning to leave. She knew that Rick and Daryl needed to talk and wanted to give them privacy.

"Michonne." She looked over her shoulder when Rick said her name. "I didn't say thanks."

"No need to," she replied quickly and honestly.

"Well, thanks anyway." Michonne smiled and nodded, then walked to the car door, leaving Rick and Daryl alone outside of the vehicle.

* * *

 **A/N:** I figured it'd be appropriate to post this chapter today since it's New Year's Eve, as Joe so kindly mentioned before he died. As for not posting a new chapter earlier, I honestly have no good excuses there. I thought I'd be able to finish the chapter around October, but my classes were literally kicking my ass, so I needed to take a break. And I also wasn't feeling inspired to write. It was part writer's block and part lack of really WANTING to write. Again, this is why I used to stick with only short stories. Anyway, I'm really going to try to be more consistent with this thing. The last time I posted was July, and that's just unacceptable, especially since I've had such amazing feedback. Of course, I've been writing new ideas and outlining/writing other stories. It was mostly to help me get out of my little slump, but it morphed into something more. I'm only putting those out when I make some headway. If you read my other story Release, I'll be posting another chapter relatively soon. I just wanted to get this story updated first. Release only has a couple chapters left, anyway.

 ***WARNING*** Political talk up ahead that I wanted to address. Nothing too serious.

I hope you all have had a wonderful year (Rest In Peace to all of the incredible icons and legends that we have lost much too soon), and if you didn't, then just keep your head up, power through, and be logical about how to move forward. This is life, and sometimes it sucks. I know so many people are up in arms about the presidency (and I swore to myself I wouldn't bring this up because people on both Rep and Dem sides would hate me), but this is how shit works. We had shit candidates, and people should have been more vocal about it from the beginning. Always remember that there are MORE than two parties. Don't pick a side, pick a candidate. Vote for who YOU want to vote for. And actually VOTE (including locally). I am happy to see that this election has made Americans actually do research, think, debate, criticize, etc. A better understanding and a further interest in politics will only make our country and its citizens stronger. I'm not going to bother with telling you too many of my opinions on this whole thing because I've always used FanFiction as an escape. Basically, this long (and probably pointless/annoying/unnecessary) paragraph is just to remind you that the Earth keeps spinning and our lives keep moving forward. Calm down and think. Be a positive force. Don't feed into the negativity that many people have been spouting on both sides. What YOU PUT OUT THERE comes back around. Happy New Year's Eve, Happy New Year, and I genuinely hope you all enjoyed the holidays if you celebrated any of them. If not, then I hope you enjoyed your last several days of the year. -xoxo


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